Revolution
by Sincere Nonsense
Summary: Things weren't supposed to go this way, with Megatron wreaking havoc in Kaon and the Iacon Council twisting the Autobot cause to serve their own purposes. Orion Pax could barely keep his friends together, much less live up to his new calling. But he'd give it his all and hope that somehow, by some miracle, it would be enough to keep the world from spiraling into chaos.
1. Expectations

Introduction:

For anyone who doesn't know, this is a sequel. Obviously, I don't want to discourage you from reading any of my stuff, but I'd suggest you check out the first story, Many Voices, before reading this one. Thanks!

For those of you who have read Many Voices, welcome back! We're going to pick up just a couple decaorns after where we left off.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Due to your associate's actions, we have entirely lost contact with the Kaon Council."

Orion nodded. "I know."

The echoes of his words faded into silence and he looked up from the Council floor at the mecha seated all around and above him.

"We entrusted you with the power you asked for, and the first thing you've done is let that gladiator take your following and overthrow a city-state, causing riots across the globe."

He hadn't asked for any of this.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Optimus Prime?"

Orion. It was Orion.

"I did not intend for this to happen."

He was lost. They were all staring at him accusingly, even Alpha Trion. Was he supposed to suddenly know everything? Why was _he_ in charge now? Why was he suddenly responsible?

All of their plans were void now that Megatronus had left. A part of him—a large part—still couldn't believe that had happened. He didn't understand it—he _knew_ Megatronus. They were friends.

"Your past intentions are irrelevant," Halogen said. "What are you going to do about the situation?"

"We are still making attempts to contact Megatronus." If Orion could just _talk_ to him…

"That will not be enough."

It would never be enough. Orion hadn't been meant for this. He had never been a leader. He looked to Alpha Trion for help, but got only a blank stare in return.

"You shouldn't have let him leave in the first place," another Councilor spoke up.

As if Megatronus had ever answered to anyone but himself.

"I apologize."

"We need results. You have three orns. We expect some sort of measurable progress by then, or at least a cohesive plan. Otherwise there will be consequences."

They didn't dare arrest him, but the last time the Council had summoned him, they had threatened to arrest his friends.

At this point, there wasn't much he could do about that.

"I understand," he said, trying not to sound frightened.

"Now go. We have important matters to discuss."

Orion turned and walked out of the Council chamber, relieved that his audience had finished so quickly. Of course, it didn't change anything. Kaon was still in anarchy, his friends were still in danger, and he still had no idea what to do.

Mecha stared at him as he crossed the lobby of the Council Hall. Reporters approached him to try to speak with him, but he hurried past them and out the front doors, ignoring them.

Ironhide was waiting for him on the steps. The mech had returned the orn after Megatronus's departure, and had since declared himself Orion's bodyguard.

"More good news?" he asked.

"They want me to take Kaon back," Orion said. "But I can't do anything if Megatronus won't talk with me."

"And we don't have an army."

"Don't even suggest that."

"I can't imagine reclaiming Kaon without a fight, even if Megatron _does_ decide to start talking to us again," Ironhide said. "Come on, let's get you home."

Orion sighed, watching a group of mecha further down the steps who were pointing toward him, talking to each other.

"I can't do this."

"Oh, shut up."

Orion followed Ironhide down the steps. His friend seemed to be in a bad mood, which was understandable under the circumstances. "As I've said before… I am sorry I didn't listen to you. If I had…"

"If you'd listened to me, Megatron would never have left the gladiator arena. I won't argue with that. But don't blame yourself. It's that lying glitch, Soundwave, who really did this. He must have known something like this would happen."

"I don't know," Orion said. "I still think I should have been able to see…"

Ironhide snorted. Orion knew he shouldn't be so down on himself—he knew it wasn't entirely his fault. But that knowledge didn't change his situation. He wished he could go back to being a librarian. He wished he had never started this—never taken that step—because he hadn't been prepared for the consequences. He had lost too many of his closest friends. Megatronus hated him, and he didn't even want to think about Elita. It had been such a very short time ago that it had seemed like _some_ things were going to work out right, and that he'd had _some_ control over the situation.

In order to avoid crowds, they took a roundabout way to Mirage's tower. No one had tried to attack Orion yet, but there were a lot of mecha in the city who resented him for becoming the Prime instead of Megatronus. He couldn't say he blamed them.

Inside the tower was chaos as usual.

Prowl and Red Alert came up to him before he'd even stepped out of the elevator.

"All right," Red Alert said. "Would you like the good news, the bad news, or the other bad news?"

"There's good news?" Ironhide said flatly.

"Well, the good news is bad news," Prowl said. "We got word from Kaon."

Orion nodded. "What was the report?"

"Anarchy!" Red Alert said.

Prowl glared at him. "No. Not anarchy. Megatron-archy. Megatron has managed to get things calmed down and is currently enlisting mecha from Kaon into an army. There's no doubt he intends to spread to other cities."

"That's definitely bad news," Ironhide said. "What's good about that?"

"Fewer mecha dying in the streets," Prowl said with a shrug. "For now, at least."

"And we've taken a prisoner," Red Alert said. "A spy from Megatron."

"Is that good news?" Ironhide asked.

"No." Red Alert snapped.

"We don't know he's a spy," Prowl corrected. "But it's highly likely. You'll no doubt want to interview him at some point, when you have time, of course."

Orion nodded. If only Soundwave were still around. It was amazing how much they'd relied on him and his abilities. It was difficult to trust anyone now, especially since Soundwave himself hadn't been trustworthy.

"Prime, sir!" a mech approached him from another direction. "We have a group of mecha from Tagan Heights wanting to see you. They want to know if you're supporting the Council or not. I wasn't sure what to tell them."

"Uh…" Orion said.

"Oh good, you're back," Mirage shoved his way through the rapidly-filling room. "Prime, this is going too far. If you can't control your mecha, I'm going to kick you all out of my tower if this keeps up."

Orion. Would they just call him Orion?

"Before you do anything else, I need to speak with you," Prowl said.

"This place is only safe so long as no one tries to bomb us from above!" Red Alert cut in.

"It's a madhouse in here," Mirage said.

'I need to…"

"Could you…"

"What should I…"

"…several things you need to address…"

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Ironhide bellowed.

The room quieted.

"I have to fragging protect him from you lot more than from mobs in the streets!" Ironhide growled. "Back off! I'm taking him to his office and you can all slagging wait in line to talk to him one at a time."

Ironhide led Orion to his office and shut the door on the way out. Orion sat at his desk, which had been pushed away from the wall so mecha could sit on either side of it. It was strewn with datapads full reports and lists and memos. Orion wasn't even sure what it all was, much less what he should do with it.

Prowl would probably push his way to the front of the line somehow. At least then Orion would get that over with. Prowl, and then Red Alert, and then maybe he could have a few breems of peace to collect himself.

But when the door opened, it was neither of them.

Alpha Trion stepped into the room and shut the door behind himself, then approached the desk. Orion stood.

"Sit down," Alpha Trion said. "I need to speak with you."

Orion sat again and Alpha Trion perched in the seat across from him, raising an optic ridge at the messy desk in front of him. Orion started to speak, but his mentor cut him off.

"You, as you know, have been designated as a Prime, but that is merely the beginning of your journey."

Orion took in a deep vent. "I know."

"I had you write an essay on it some time back, I believe."

"Yes," Orion said, optics widening. "I remember. It was when you appointed me as your assistant. I thought it was a test of my research and writing skills…"

"I knew even then what you would become," Alpha Trion said. "That is why I wanted you as my assistant in the first place."

Orion was taken aback. "I… you _knew?_ But how could you have known? This whole thing is some sort of misunderstanding. The Council was just trying to undermine Autobot by…"

"Is that what you felt on the Council floor when you swore to do Primus's will and protect the mecha of Cybertron?"

Orion looked down.

"Well?" the ancient archivist prompted.

"No."

"I didn't tell you before because I knew you would react like this. Humility is only a strength if you don't use it as an excuse to shirk your duties. You _are_ Optimus Prime, or at least you _will_ become Optimus Prime, the Last of the Primes. Do not question Primus's judgment on the matter."

Orion wasn't sure how to respond. He looked at his messy desk, thinking about all the things he was being asked to do, and all the mecha he needed to talk to and all the problems he didn't know how to solve. "I don't know if I can do this. I don't know how…"

"Well, what do you remember from that essay?" Alpha Trion asked.

Orion thought back. "Primes… spend a period of time training to receive the Matrix of Leadership. And the Matrix grants them the wisdom and knowledge of the Primes before them."

Alpha Trion nodded once.

"Then I must receive the Matrix. Once that happens, will I know what to do?"

"No," Alpha Trion said. "But it will help."

"Where is it?"

"The Matrix of Leadership has been lost."

Orion stared at him.

"No one knows where it is," Alpha Trion continued matter-of-factly. "Other than our most recent Prime, who would have had it when she offlined."

He didn't seem upset about that.

"But... I thought you knew where it was..."

"I didn't want anyone going on treasure hunts for it," Alpha Trion said. "So the official story is that I have it."

"How can I receive the Matrix if it is lost?" Orion asked.

"Think about it."

He'd said the previous Prime knew where it was. And in that case…

Oh.

Orion met Alpha Trion's optics. "We could find out where it is by consulting Vector Sigma."

"Yes," Alpha Trion said. "Of course, I don't have the key to Vector Sigma. Unfortunately, the key itself and the responsibility for its safekeeping belong to High Councilor Halogen."

Primus no…

"So I'd suggest trying to stay on his good side until you've completed your training and he is obliged to give it to you."

Alpha Trion wanted him to try and stay on the Council's good side?

"It's not ideal, but we must do whatever is necessary," Alpha Trion said. "And the Matrix _is_ necessary."

Orion wasn't sure what to say.

"Of course, in order to do that, you must also be prepared, and I have no time in which to prepare you. Furthermore, there are things you must learn which do not fall under my area of expertise. So I have found a different teacher for you."

"Wait…"

"He will be here later this orn. Please be polite to him and don't let that paranoid monstrosity lock him up anywhere."

"Alpha Trion—"

"You must spend several joors every orn working with him if you want to be ready before it's too late. Time is of the essence."

"Several joors… but I can't…"

"It is your duty, and you must do it." Alpha Trion stood. "Now I need to get back to the Council Hall—"

"Stop!"

Alpha Trion stopped.

Orion took in a deep vent. "I can barely keep up with everything as it is, I don't know who to put in charge of what, everyone asks me questions I don't know how to answer and… I can't do this, Alpha Trion. I'm the wrong mech for this."

Alpha Trion sighed, setting a hand on Orion's desk, but not looking at him. "You're the right mech for this. I know you're struggling, but you can't let that stop you. Primus chose you. The whole Council knew it—none of us could deny it. You are here now for a reason. And you _will_ figure things out. I will be in touch. Good orn."

And with that, he turned and walked from the room.

Orion wanted to scream. He hadn't asked for this, and he needed help, not more things to do and responsibilities to fill.

He gripped the edge of the desk, shuttering his optics and venting deeply to calm himself. Maybe he couldn't do it all, but he had to keep trying, at least a little longer.

He looked up again just in time for Prowl to come in.

* * *

Yoketron had lived in nearly all of Cybertron's city-states at some point in his life. But Iacon was the one that held the majority of his most memorable experiences. The first task Primus had given him had brought him here, to deliver a message to Regulus Prime and the leaders of Cybertron's armies. That message had brought about the end of the Quintesson wars.

The city had been very different at the time. It had been full of refugees and soldiers, broken, tired warriors and hungry, desperate camps and communities from all over the globe. It had been one of the last strongholds on the planet. Iacon hadn't been the capital of the world before the Quintesson wars. That had changed just after, during Sentinel Prime's brief, ill-fated reign, because he hadn't wanted to expend resources rebuilding Simfur.

So many things had changed during those wars. And so many things had changed since them. Now, the inner sectors of Iacon made one bustling, crowded metropolis where mecha from all city-states and all walks of life met and mingled.

It was beautiful.

True, there were problems in the world, but in many places, there was still peace.

And now Yoketron was here to fulfill the last task Primus had given him. He had a new message for the current Prime. But this one would start a war instead of ending one.

He still did not feel ready, especially as he walked the streets, listening to the conversations around him and watching mecha go about their lives. There was a lot of talk about Megatron and the Decepticons, and also about Orion Pax's appointment as a Prime. But no one seemed afraid—at least not as afraid as they ought to be.

He could have driven, but he chose to walk instead, making his dilatory way toward the tall towers in the distance. He wasn't sure what he would say to the young Prime. He'd only met the mechling once, and hadn't had time to get to know him. Perhaps he should observe at first, until he understood the situation better.

He would have to resist the temptation to rush this final task. Alpha Trion would surely push him to move more quickly, but he needed to take his time and make sure he was doing things right. He had to focus on preparing Optimus for the future, not on the fact that when he was finished, he would finally, finally get to return home.

He reached the base of the tower. There was a small crowd gathered there, talking to two mecha who stood guarding the door. Yoketron slipped through to the front.

"Good orn," he said. "My designation is Yoketron. I must speak with Optimus Prime."

"Sorry," one of the guards said. "We aren't letting anyone in to talk to him."

Yoketron blinked. He should have expected that. "I am here on Councilor Alpha Trion's orders."

The guards looked at each other.

"Hang on," one of them said. "Come wait inside."

He beckoned Yoketron past him. The babble of the crowd increased as the door opened and Yoketron entered.

The bottom floor of the tower was like a lavish waiting room. There were padded benches and the floor was made of expensive-looking crystal tiles. A mech sat behind a desk, looking at a screen. He glanced up at Yoketron, but didn't say anything, so Yoketron waited in silence, studying the room around him. From what he had heard, high tower nobles rarely came down to ground level, so this place would be for servants and visitors from lower castes to enter.

Yoketron heard what sounded like muted shouting, and wondered whether something was happening outside, but then a door that led further into the tower opened, and three mechs entered the room.

"…can't believe them, I _told_ them not to let anyone else in, I don't _care_ who the frag they say they are. Who are you?" The red and white mech in front glared at Yoketron.

"I am Master Yoketron," Yoketron said. "Alpha Trion sent me to meet with Optimus Prime."

The mech narrowed his optics, then shook his helm. "Anyone could say that. Get out! Fragging assassins crawling in here ten times an orn."

Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "I assure you, I am not an assassin."

"I said get out! Or you'll be forcefully removed from the premises."

Yoketron looked at the two mechs standing behind the red and white one. He doubted they'd be able to force him from the premises. but he didn't want to make a scene. "Very well," he said. "Will you at least tell Optimus Prime that I was here and would like to speak with him?"

"Hold on." the mech at the desk spoke up. "Red Alert, I just looked him up. This mech's famous. Maybe we should let him—"

"No," the red and white mech, Red Alert, snapped. "Get the frag out of here!"

Yoketron frowned. "There is no need to be rude," he said, then turned to leave. "Good orn, Red Alert."

He walked out of the building and past the guards who were still standing by the door.

This was an interesting turn of events. He smiled slightly, remembering that he'd been turned away initially the first time he'd attempted to secure an audience with a Prime as well. He would simply need to find another way in.

For now, though, he ought to find somewhere to stay the off-cycle. He could afford a hotel, certainly, but he preferred to stay with friends when he could. Who did he know in Central Iacon?

He sent an internal comm. as he walked. It was answered after a few astroseconds.

" _Master Yoketron, is that really you?"_

" _Yes,"_ Yoketron said. _"Landquake, do you and Petra still live in Iacon?"_

" _Yes,"_ the transport said. _"Are you visiting?"_

" _I am. If you have some time, I'd love to stop by."_

" _Do you have somewhere to stay? We'd be happy to have you here for a few orns."_

" _So long as it doesn't inconvenience you,"_ Yoketron said.

" _Where are you? I'll come pick you up."_

" _There's no need for that. I don't want to take you away from your work."_

" _I'm actually out of work right now anyway,"_ Landquake said. _"Got fired for being in the resistance, and I never managed to get my job back. But that's another story. Where are you?"_

Yoketron sent his coordinates, then looked up at the dim Iacon sky, frowning. _"I'm sorry to hear about your job. Perhaps I can hire you as a personal transport while I'm here. I may need to move around the sector discreetly in the near future."_

" _I… are you sure? I mean, you've done so much for us already I don't want to…"_

" _I insist,"_ Yoketron said. _"It will make my life much easier, and I can't accept your services without paying you."_

" _I can't thank you enough,"_ Landquake said.

" _Nonsense. I'll see you soon, my friend."_

" _I'll be there in ten breems."_

Yoketron cut the comm and stood on the corner, waiting.

* * *

Orion started online. He had a datapad in one hand and the stack he had made on the desk was a haphazard pile again. What time was it? His internal timepiece said it was the middle of the off-cycle. He must have drifted off. How long had he been recharging? There were things he still needed to do.

He looked down at the datapad, trying to remember what was next on the list, going over what had happened during the orn.

He activated his comm.

" _Red Alert?"_

" _Yes? What is it?"_

" _Was there something you needed me to do? Something…"_

" _There are a thousand things that need to be done."_

" _No, you said something about a prisoner…"_

" _Oh, yes, he's locked up in Mirage's security vaults."_

"… _Does Mirage know about that?"_

" _No. Mirage is not in charge of security here, I am."_

" _Red Alert, it_ is _his house."_ And Orion had listened to the noblemech complain for nearly a joor about how he felt like no one was respecting that fact. _"So please ask his permission before…"_

" _How am I supposed to do that when he's invisible half the time?_ He _could be a Decepticon spy for all we know! And we would never know, because we don't know where he is or what he's—"_

" _Red Alert, please calm down. Mirage is not working for Megatronus."_

" _You trusted Jazz and Soundwave and_ they _switched sides on you."_

Soundwave had joined Megatron—that much was true. Jazz was another story, but Orion and Prowl had decided to keep that as secret as possible.

Orion sighed. _"Do you happen to know where Mirage is at the moment?"_

" _He's in his quarters."_

" _Is he recharging?"_

" _No."_

" _Very well. Thank you."_

" _Orion—I mean Optimus—I wouldn't go talk to Mirage alone. It isn't safe."_

" _Thank you for the warning. Why don't you get some recharge?"_

" _There's no time for that. With Soundwave gone I have to take over his job_ and _my job."_

" _I am sorry,"_ Orion said, getting up from his desk. _"I'll see if we can find you an assistant."_

" _No, that's fine. I can't trust anyone else. Not after the majority of our mecha betrayed us."_

" _Well, think about it. Thank you, Red Alert."_

" _You're welcome. Thank you, Prime."_

Orion cut the comm. and quietly opened the door. Ironhide was sitting outside in the hallway, leaning against the wall, with Chromia sitting next to him. His optics were shuttered and he looked like he was recharging.

Chromia was online, though. She met Orion's gaze and pointed to her bonded, raising an optic ridge questioningly.

Orion shook his helm and put a finger to his lip plates. He didn't want to bother his exhausted friend.

Chromia nodded and smiled slightly, then sent him an internal comm.

" _Don't leave the building or do anything dangerous."_

Orion nodded. _"I'm going to talk to Mirage, then maybe Prowl."_

Chromia grimaced. _"My condolences."_

Orion tried to walk down the hall without making noise. He hoped he didn't run into anyone else who wanted to talk to him. There were bound to be several still online, even at this joor.

Normally, he enjoyed talking. But right now, he was so tired of it that he would probably rather get shot than have another conversation with anyone. Who else had he needed to talk to this orn?

Oh. Alpha Trion had told him someone would come to help him prepare to receive the Matrix. Orion had completely forgotten. He initiated another comm.

" _Red Alert?"_

" _What? What's happening?"_

" _Nothing. I just remembered Alpha Trion told me he was sending someone here…"_

" _What? Oh, yes. This mech showed up and said Alpha Trion had sent him. I figured he was an assassin or something."_

" _You thought Alpha Trion would send an assassin?"_

 _"No,"_ Red Alert said. _"But I had nothing besides the mech's word that Alpha Trion had sent him in the first place."_

 _"What did you do with him? Please don't tell me you locked him up."_

" _Of course not! I told him to leave."_

Oh, Primus, no. _"Red Alert, Alpha Trion_ told _me he was coming…"_

" _How was I supposed to know that? He could have been anyone."_

Orion sighed. One more person he needed to apologize to. _"Where did he go?'_

" _How should I know? He left like I asked him to. Look, if you're expecting someone, you need to let me know beforehand."_

" _If someone claims to have been sent by Alpha Trion or anyone else on the Council, please let me know before you turn them away. In addition, please do not lock mecha up. We are not a government, and do not have the authority to make arrests."_

" _Do you want me to keep you safe or don't you?"_

" _I… never mind. But if that mech comes back, let me know immediately."_

" _Fine."_

" _Thank you, Red Alert."_

" _You're welcome."_

He ended the comm again. He would have to address that eventually. If the mech didn't reappear, Orion would ask Alpha Trion for another way to get in touch with him.

He went up the stairs to Mirage's floor of the tower and made his way to the noblemech's room. The door didn't have an entry request button, so he knocked.

And waited.

After almost a breem, it slid open.

"Hello," Mirage frowned. "And what exactly do you want from me at this unholy joor of the off-cycle?"

"I'm sorry to bother you."

"Go on."

"Did you know Red Alert apprehended a prisoner?"

"I had hoped that wasn't true. Where is this prisoner?"

"In your security vaults. At least that is what Red Alert said."

Mirage moaned. "You have to control that lunatic!"

"I'm sorry. We do need him."

"You really must move out," Mirage said. "This is out of control, Prime."

His designation was Orion. "I know."

"I'll give you some time of course. I'm not going to be rude, like that paranoid… did you know he threw out a famous war hero this orn?"

Orion sighed. Probably the mech Alpha Trion had sent. "I had heard. You don't happen to know where _that_ mech went, do you?"

"I haven't got a clue. I didn't hear about it until afterward or I would have intervened."

"Thank you anyway. Would you like to release Red Alert's prisoner this off-cycle, or wait until next orn?"

Mirage crossed his arms with a sigh. "Well, the sooner we can get him out of here, the better. Do you want to bring Ironhide?"

"No, I want to avoid appearing as if I am trying to threaten this mech."

"Your funeral," Mirage said, then beckoned into his room.

Orion stepped inside and watched as the noblemech opened a panel in the wall and tapped a few buttons behind it. A doorway appeared, leading to a flight of stairs. Orion followed Mirage down as the other mech muttered under his breath about invasions of privacy and madmechs. He led the way through a set of halls Orion had never seen before and eventually stopped in front of a long, smooth wall. Mirage tapped a section of the wall and a plate of metal slid out of place, revealing a number pad. The noblemech typed something in on it, then stood back.

Nothing happened.

Mirage huffed. "Red Alert!"

Orion looked down.

"Give me the codes for my vault! This instant! Or I will have you all thrown out on the streets!"

After a few astroseconds, he typed in a longer string of symbols and the wall slid open. It opened to another hallway, which again Mirage led the way through. The hallway was lined with doors. Windows into them showed small rooms filled with boxes, interesting-looking objects, and shelves of datapads.

And in one otherwise empty room, a large mech sat. He was primarily green, with a little gray and white. Orion had never seen him before, but he had been built powerfully in a style that was easily recognizable.

"You might want to comm. your bodyguard after all," Mirage said. "That is a gladiator."

"I know," Orion frowned. The mech looked up through the window and met his gaze with cold white optics. "I don't want to bother Ironhide, though."

Mirage frowned. "You know, he must have come quietly, or we would have heard about it, which means he had a purpose in coming here. If he was sent by Megatron to kill you, you'd be giving him a perfect opportunity."

The mech inside the door bowed his helm.

"I don't know," Orion said. "I doubt Megatronus would send someone to kill me. I don't think he wants me offline, but if he did, I feel he would come himself."

Mirage seemed to consider that.

"It will be fine." If this mech couldn't be reasoned with he wouldn't have let them lock him up. If he had cooperated, then he had a purpose here. If his purpose was to offline Orion, then bringing Ironhide would most likely just get Ironhide hurt or offlined. Orion didn't want to risk that.

"Are you certain?" Mirage asked.

"It will be fine. Please open the door. I am sure he knows that if he attacks me, he will not make it out of this tower." Aside from that, there was a good chance Red Alert had already alerted Ironhide to what Orion was doing. And Orion wanted to talk to this mech before anyone tried to intervene.

"Very well. You're on your own, Prime." Mirage disappeared.

The door opened. Orion's spark pulsed painfully, and for a moment he _was_ afraid for his life.

The green gladiator looked up again, but didn't move other than that. "Orion Pax," he said. "Or, Optimus Prime, as it were."

Orion nodded. "I am sorry for how you've been treated." He reached out to help the other mech up.

The gladiator looked hesitant for a moment, then took Orion's hand. Orion helped him to his pedes. He was even heavier than expected, and stood taller and much broader than Orion.

"I haven't been mistreated," the mech said. "At least, I haven't been harmed in any way."

"Well, I apologize that you were locked up."

The gladiator nodded. "Forgiven. I'm Springer."

"You can call me Orion if you want."

Springer tilted his helm to the side. "All right."

"What brings you to Iacon?" Orion asked.

"You," Springer said.

"Me?" Orion felt a chill run down his back plating.

"Yes," Springer said. "So far, I have to say I'm not impressed. Everything here seems to be a bit of a mess."

"It is," Orion admitted.

"Also, coming to talk to me by yourself seems like a bad idea. What if I were here to kill you?"

"You are not the first one who's raised that concern." Orion said. "You showed up, apparently without trying to sneak in, and cooperated with my mecha. If you meant us harm, I'm sure you would have done us harm already."

"What if this was my plan to get at you?"

"Cooperate in the hope that I would come by myself to talk to you?" Orion asked.

Springer seemed to consider that. "You're right, I doubt I'd expect you to do anything that stupid. I just came to meet you, and share what I can about Megatronus. He and I were in the pits together. We even fought against each other once. I like him as much as it's possible to like someone down there. But I don't trust him. And if this becomes a war and I have to pick a side to fight on, I can't be on his."

Orion frowned. "You.. can't?"

"No," Springer said. "He doesn't want to solve society's problems, he just wants revenge. He's out of control."

Orion didn't want to believe that.

"Now, I'm not promising to join your side," Springer said. "And I'm not much of a soldier. But I did come with some inside information, and I'll give you my comm. codes so if you ever need a gladiator, you can contact me."

"Well…" Orion said.

"I won't be offended if you don't want my help. After all, the last time you trusted a gladiator, it didn't work out so well for you."

"No," Orion said. "It's not that. I'm glad to have an ally in you, and thank you for offering your assistance. I simply don't think this is going to devolve into a war. I doubt I will need any soldiers of any kind…"

"Megs will make war," Springer said. "Don't doubt that."

Orion shuttered his optics for a moment. He didn't want to admit that this mech was probably right.

Ironhide commed him.

" _Orion, where are you?"_

He was out of time. _"I'm fine."_

"Surely you know him well enough to know that," Springer said.

"Yes, but I don't want to give up on him yet."

Springer raised an optic ridge. "Well, I'll give you my comm. codes. If you need another bodyguard, or someone to wreak general mayhem somewhere, let me know, all right?"

Orion nodded.

" _You told Chromia you were talking to Mirage."_

" _I'm talking to someone else,"_ Orion said, then addressed Springer. "I have to see to something else. But we would be happy to accept any information you can give us. You can stay here for the rest of the off-cycle if you would like, but—"

"No, that's all right," Springer said. "I can find somewhere else to stay."

" _Who are you talking to?"_

"Mirage, would you mind showing him out? I have to go reassure Ironhide that I am all right."

"I'm not your errand mech," Mirage stepped into the doorway, visible again. "But all right. Do you remember the way back?"

Orion nodded.

"The inside of the door to my quarters has a passcode. I'll send it to you in a comm."

" _You had better not be talking to Red Alert's prisoner by yourself."_

Mirage sent him the password, and Springer handed him a small datapad.

"Thank you," Orion said, and they all left.

" _You fragging idiot!"_

" _I'll talk to you in a few breems."_

They headed back the way they had come. Outside the vault, they turned different directions. Orion retraced their steps back to Mirage's quarters, keyed in the code, went in, and walked out into the hallway.

Ironhide was waiting for him there.

"Are you glitched!?" he demanded.

"I'm fine."

"That prisoner is a gladiator!"

" _Was_ a gladiator."

"He could have offlined you!"

Orion shook his helm. "If he…"

"Don't start making excuses. You're a Prime now, you can't just put your life in danger! It's my job to keep you safe and I can't do that with you running off doing stupid things like talking to gladiators from Kaon."

"Ironhide…"

"No! From this moment on, I don't want you to leave my sight!"

"I'm not a sparkling."

"Then don't act like one!"

"Then don't…" Orion sighed. Ironhide was right. "I apologize. I should have woken you so you could come with me. I wanted to let you rest, though. I kept you up later than you should have been, because I slipped into recharge in my office…"

"You… argh, why are you so hard to be mad at? What you did was irresponsible, Orion. It doesn't matter if I'm tired—what matters is your safety."

"Even if you were there, if that mech had wanted to hurt me, he wouldn't have had much trouble."

"At the very least, I could have bought you time to get away if he'd attacked."

"That's another reason I didn't want to bring you," Orion said, conviction strengthening. "I don't care what my title is, my life is no more important than yours or anyone's."

Ironhide frowned, shaking his helm. "No. Don't do anything like that again or I'll lock you up for your own good."

A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him and Orion shuttered his optics.

"You all right?"

"Yes."

"Are you done for the orn?"

He nodded.

"Then you're going to your room to rest. No arguing."

Orion wasn't about to argue with something like that.

* * *

Notes:

1\. To find out what's up with Jazz, check out Spare Parts chapter 15.

2\. Happy New Year!


	2. New Directions

Thundercracker stood on the brink of nothing, watching jets streak across the sky. The atmosphere stretched out forever, making a smooth gradient from the dark blue above to the pale turquoise below. Some orns, you couldn't even see the ground. It was like it didn't exist—like Vos was a world unto itself.

A couple landed nearby, laughing, dragging Thundercracker out of his contemplations. The edge of the city had a beautiful view, but no privacy.

He got a comm, and answered it with a sigh. "Hey, Tealwing."

" _Hey,"_ she said. _"Screamer's not answering his comm. Did you mechs…"_

"We didn't get accepted," Thundercracker said.

" _Yeah,"_ Tealwing said. _"Figured. If you all want to come over and drown your sorrows in some high grade at my place…"_

"Sounds good," Thundercracker said. "Starscream's out flying, but I can bring 'Warp."

Tealwing huffed an annoyed-sounding sigh. _"He's pretty upset isn't he?"_

"Yep."

" _Well, hopefully flying cools him off a little."_

"One would hope. I'll see you soon." Thundercracker cut the comm. and turned to walk away from the edge. Skywarp leaned against a nearby pillar, scowling.

"Who was that?"

"Tealwing," Thundercracker said. "She invited us over."

Skywarp perked up a little. "Let's leave Screamer and head over then."

"He might not be too happy about that."

"Well, I kind of want to be overcharged already when we see him next," Skywarp said. "He's going to blame _us_ for this, I can feel it."

Thundercracker wasn't so sure about that. He was pretty sure Starscream was more upset at the Council than at his trine brothers. He glanced over his shoulder at the open atmosphere, but couldn't pick out his brother among the many seekers in the sky.

"I don't know…"

"Last one there's a wingless sparkling!" Skywarp took off.

Thundercracker rolled his optics and transformed as well, soaring off after his brother. He dodged pillars as he flew through the delicate structure of the city, catching up with Skywarp. His brother cut him off, pushing him to the left. Thundercracker dodged, barely avoiding a slender metal pillar, and then shoved back, chasing Skywarp up into the open atmosphere above the city, then turning to fly straight toward the sector where Tealwing lived. The sun to his left shone off the many facets of the city, lighting it up like a low-flying moon.

Skywarp streaked past him, shouting something Thundercracker couldn't hear over the wind. He flew faster, trying to catch up, forgetting his problems in the chase, and the exhilaration of rushing through thin atmosphere.

By the time he landed on Tealwing's platform, just ahead of Skywarp, he no longer felt like the world was ending.

Tealwing had an open platform without a glass dome over it. It meant anyone could land in her home, but she probably didn't have too many problems. Skywarp was fond of saying that she could just talk any unwanted guests into a stupor and then push them over the edge.

She and Andromeda were perched on stools at the table, watching them.

"It took you mechs forever to get here," Tealwing said, waving them over with a white and green hand. "You seriously didn't get in?"

Thundercracker sat next to Andromeda. "Nope."

"But didn't you all get top scores? I mean," Tealwing leaned in. "I know for a fact Screamer cheated on the written test. Did they find out about that?"

"If they did, they didn't mention it," Thundercracker said. "They just said they couldn't accept us into the Armada. They didn't give us a reason."

"That's fragging stupid," Tealwing said. "I can't believe them. I bet it's because Screamer's lower class."

Skywarp snorted. "Yeah. Or maybe because he got into a shouting match with the mech he interviewed with."

"Yeah," Tealwing pouted. "Idiot."

"It still isn't fair," Andromeda said. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Thundercracker said.

The five of them—the trine, and the two femmes—had become friends after Thundercracker had come back from Kalis. He'd been an outcast for a while because the other seekers had considered him tainted by his time on the surface. So he'd found another group of outcasts who had been willing to take him in.

"Stand up for yourself, mech," Tealwing said. "Honestly, you're hopeless. You deserve to be in the Seeker Armada, all three of you. You're the best fighters, the best navigators, the best… everything. And no one can fly better than Starscream."

Thundercracker sighed. "I don't know what we're going to do now."

"You'll think of something," Andromeda assured him. "This isn't the end, just a patch of rough atmosphere."

"Yeah, tell that to Starscream," Skywarp said.

"I will," Andromeda said. "Next time I see him. And even if you aren't going to be in the Armada, I'm sure things will get better."

"I guess," Thundercracker said.

The dark blue femme watched him thoughtfully with her striking white optics. She could sound ignorant and overly-optimistic sometimes, but Thundercracker occasionally got the unsettling impression that she could see right inside of mecha.

"Did you really want to be part of the Armada anyway?" she asked.

"Of course," Thundercracker said not exactly sure why the question made him uncomfortable. "Hang on, Starscream's trying to reach me."

He answered his brother's comm, putting a finger to his helm.

" _Where are you?"_ Starscream snarled.

"Tealwing's. You want to join us?"

" _How_ dare _you leave without me!? Come back right now! I need to speak with you!"_

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge. "Can you come talk to me at Tealwing's?"

Starscream just growled and cut the comm.

"Is he coming?" Tealwing asked.

"I think so."

"He's lost it, though," Skywarp said with a grin. "You should have seen the look on his faceplate when we left the recruitment office. He's going to be angry for _vorns_ about this. You have some high grade?"

"Better believe it," Tealwing said, pulling several cubes out of subspace. "I swiped this from work."

"Really?" Andromeda said.

"Don't judge me," Tealwing said. "They sell it for way more than it's worth anyway."

Andromeda leaned back, folding her arms and smiling sadly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're still judging me."

"No," Andromeda said. "I just realized. You got that to celebrate, didn't you?"

"I got it either way," Tealwing said. "No matter what happens, we'll always need good, strong high grade."

* * *

It was almost halfway through the orn when Orion got a comm. summoning him to the Council Hall. He had been hoping they'd forgotten about their deadline. But this was a good excuse to leave the meeting he was currently in.

"I'm sorry." He cut Prowl off mid-sentence and stood. "The Council wants to speak with me."

Prowl glared at him. "But we need you to make the final decision about this."

"I'll have to do it later."

Ironhide got up as well and followed Orion out of the room.

Mecha called out to him in the main room, asking him questions and requesting to talk to him, but Ironhide snapped at them to back off, and led Orion to the elevator.

The doors closed and Orion shuttered his optics as he felt the elevator start its descent.

"We should take a transport," Ironhide said.

"I would really rather walk."

"We'll have to find a different route then. I thought I saw some mecha following us last time."

Orion sighed. "Then we'll find another route." Walking helped work off some of his constantly mounting stress. Besides, he needed some time to think about what he was going to say to the Council.

The rest of the elevator ride was silent, and they didn't talk as they walked out into the city either. Normally Orion might have tried to make conversation but he was too busy thinking. It was nice to have a little time inside his own helm anyway.

What seemed like far too soon, they reached the Council Hall. Orion was admitted right away and announced before the Council

He stepped onto the stage and looked up at the councilors and senators in their seats, watching him.

"Optimus Prime," Halogen said. "Are you aware of the newest development in Kaon?"

"No, your honor."

"Megatron is establishing an organized government of sorts."

Oh. That. Yes, Orion had known. Whoever the Council had informing them wasn't as good as Jazz, that was for certain.

Orion hoped Jazz was doing all right. Prowl said it was certain that he'd be caught eventually, unless they could get Soundwave back on their side.

"What's more, this government of his has been recruiting and organizing an army," Halogen said. "Have you made any progress toward stopping him?"

"He still refuses to speak with us," Orion said. "We have been working on solidifying what remains of our following here in the hopes that… we can still push for some government reforms."

"No," Halogen said. "You lost that opportunity when you allowed your associate to start a war. You have more immediate, pressing matters to deal with."

"Megatronus is responsible for his own actions."

"Oh," Halogen's voice rang with scorn. "You think you can avoid this issue? That it doesn't concern you?"

Orion was tempted to argue that it _didn't_ , that he was the leader of a peaceful reform movement. But the truth came out instead.

"I don't know what to do about it," he said. "I cannot stop him."

"Yes you can," Halogen said. "And you will. Since you haven't taken initiative on your own, we have developed a plan for you."

Orion met the High Councilmech's optics and felt a chill down his back plating.

"Before you protest, I want to point something out," Halogen said. "You can't truly believe that Megatron's overthrow of an entire city-state does not concern you. You are the Prime, in designation at least, and you have a sworn duty to protect the mecha of Cybertron. That includes the mecha of Kaon, does it not?"

Orion looked down. "It… does."

"Then you will hear us out."

"Very well." Orion didn't know what else to say.

"Megatron must be stopped before it is too late. Before he spreads to other places. We must organize an army to combat his," Halogen said. "With the turmoil from your recent rebellions, and the immediate need, we expect some difficulty in the process of enlistment. But if we use your influence, we should be able to bypass our own current… lack of support from the general populace."

Orion stared. No. Not this.

"We expect your full cooperation on the matter."

"Wait," Orion said. "What?"

"Do not make me repeat myself. We need you to raise an army for us."

"I… how can I do that?" Violence. They wanted violence. "I still think we should try to discuss this with Megatronus before…"

"And we have said that it is too late for that."

"Besides, we can't use what remains of my following. They are the ones who _didn't_ want war."

"It's not a matter of wanting, it's a matter of necessity." Halogen said. "If we play up the horror and violence of what is happening in Kaon, they will see they must take up arms against the Decepticons in order to prevent that violence from spreading."

Orion shook his helm. The way they spoke, openly and without even trying to hide the fact that they were planning on lying to the public. "After all you've done, all they _know_ you've done, do you really expect them to believe you?"

"No," Halogen said.

Orion was taken aback.

"We expect them to believe _you._ "

His spark sank.

"You will exhort your mecha to join the ranks. You will tell them that Megatron is nothing more than a maniac and a tyrant. You will insist that the last thing you want is violence, but that we have no choice in the matter."

No.

"We will call our army 'The Autobots.'"

"No!"

"Excuse me?"

"No! I will not use my influence to raise an army so that you can bring about more killing."

"We expect your _full_ cooperation on the matter."

Orion looked down.

"If you do not cooperate, you and your followers will be arrested and we will find a way to get our army using less pleasant methods."

"Do you think you can threaten me?" Orion asked. He had to contact Ironhide somehow, let him know they might need to evacuate the base. Mirage would be happy about getting his home back. Or would the Council arrest Mirage? Would the Council arrest Orion before he could even talk to Ironhide?

"You still don't seem to understand this situation," Halogen said.

"I'm not afraid of you." Orion was terrified. But this was a point he would not give on. He had worked so hard to avoid violence. He was not going to turn around and demand that his followers take up arms.

"Be careful not to count us altogether as your enemies," Halogen said. "We don't want war either, but it is no longer an inevitability—It is an actuality. It is happening right now. Unless you would like to see another government—worse than we are—flood this globe, you will do as we say."

Orion looked down again.

"You cannot always tell the truth. If there were only good mecha, perhaps that would work. But there is always someone to take advantage of your honesty and honorability. It weakens you."

Orion looked up again. That wasn't true.

"We would advise you very strongly not to argue with us any more on this matter," Halogen said. "In one orn, you will begin your campaign."

He paused as if waiting for another protest of some kind. Orion gave none.

"You are dismissed."

Dismissed? Already?

Very well then. Orion turned and walked toward the doors, listening to his own footsteps echo in the quiet, cavernous room.

What was he going to do? He could imagine bringing it up to everyone else, and all of them… encouraging him to follow the Council's advice. They were all so angry at Megatronus, and some of them had already brought up the idea of violent retaliation.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't start a war.

Ironhide looked surprised when Orion came out of the building.

"Hey," he said. "That was quick. What's wrong?"

"Let's go."

"What happened? You didn't make them mad, did you?"

Orion shook his helm. "That's not the problem."

"What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you when we get back to base."

Orion walked purposefully and didn't slow down until they got to a quieter street.

"All right," Ironhide said again. "Can you talk now?"

Orion took in a deep vent. "They want me to raise an army for them."

Ironhide seemed a little taken aback. "An army? To fight Megatron?"

Orion nodded.

"Did you tell those glitches to raise their own army?"

"In effect," Orion said. "But we might have to go undercover again, because they've only given me one orn to put off doing what they asked."

"Which is what exactly?"

"Using what influence I have left to get mecha to enlist. They want to name the army after us as well."

Ironhide frowned. "Well…"

"That's a perversion of our purpose," Orion said. "If I do that, I'll be going against everything I promised. But if I don't then we'll just divide mecha further and then if Megatronus does come back and try to conquer Iacon… I don't know." He didn't know what would happen. He didn't want a repeat of Kaon. He didn't want any of that. But if it was going to happen, wasn't it his duty as a Prime to do everything he could to protect the mecha here?

All of this was his fault. All of that killing in Kaon was on his helm. It was too late.

He had already started a war.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a loud bang, and Orion was knocked from his pedes. He heard Ironhide cry out, and started trying to get up.

By the time he was standing again, they were surrounded by mecha on all sides.

"Orion, run!" Ironhide gasped, pressing a hand to his leaking side. Orion backed toward the nearest building, but there was nowhere to go. He took a step toward his injured friend instead, who let go of his side and shifted his hands into plasma cannons.

"Weapons off," A mech stepped forward. "Or both of you offline."

Ironhide growled and activated the cannons.

"No," Orion said. "Put them away. We can talk."

His friend didn't move.

"Please."

Ironhide sighed and lowered his cannons. The other mecha came at him from either side and shoved him down to his knees. One of them put a powered-up gun to his helm.

"Hold on," Orion said. "We can talk."

"Sure," the mech who seemed to be in charge said. "Soon as we're somewhere safer."

Two mecha grabbed Orion as well.

"No!" Ironhide said.

"Offline the bodyguard."

"Wait!" Orion tried to pull free of the mecha restraining him.

And then the mech holding a gun to Ironhide's helm collapsed, dropping his weapon.

"What the…!" the mech in charge said.

Then he dropped to the ground as well.

What?

Ironhide used everyone's surprise to pull free of the mecha holding him down and power up his guns again.

But he didn't need to use them.

There was a flash of metal and another one of the attackers dropped. Then the two holding Orion released him and slid to the ground as well.

The two remaining looked around in fear. Then Orion caught another glimpse of something flashing through the atmosphere and one of the mecha screamed. Both of them sank to the ground.

"What in Primus's name…" Ironhide said.

"Ironhide!" Orion rushed over to his friend. "Oh, Primus, I thought they were going to kill you. You're hurt. We need to get you back to Ratchet…"

"Shut up!" Ironhide said, peering down the street. "There's something dangerous here."

"I mean no harm," a quiet voice from the left said. Ironhide spun toward the sound. "Please put your weapons away."

A mech stepped out of a nearby alleyway. He was small and his build was reminiscent of a Praxian but without doorwings.

Orion recognized him. "Ironhide, put your cannons away."

"Last time you said that…"

"I know this mech."

Ironhide grumbled, but transformed his cannons back into hands nonetheless.

"Optimus Prime," Master Yoketron nodded. "Or as we were introduced, Orion Pax."

"You…" Orion connected the dots. "You're the one Alpha Trion sent, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I am so sorry about Red Alert. He is overly paranoid. I hope he didn't cause you too much trouble."

"You are forgiven. There was no harm done."

Orion vented a sigh of relief.

"What happened to them?" Ironhide limped over to one of the mecha on the ground.

Yoketron joined him and reached down to pull a small throwing star out of the mech's neck plating. "They're just recharging. They'll come online in a joor or so. No damage done. You, on the other hand, need a medic."

"I can walk back to base fine."

Yoketron looked mildly amused. "If you must. It might be safer to use my transport, though. He'll be just down the street in a few breems." Yoketron went around, collecting throwing stars and subspacing them.

"So…" Orion said.

"Can questions wait? I'm not sure of the security of this area," Yoketron said.

"Of course," Orion said.

"Come," Yoketron said, waving with a hand full of throwing stars.

Orion walked with Ironhide, ready to catch him if he stumbled, all the way to the corner. A transport pulled up and opened his door.

"I don't…" Ironhide stared mistrustfully into the vehicle.

"It's ok," Orion said. "Get in."

They climbed into the transport with Yoketron bringing up the rear.

"Thank you," Orion said when the door closed and they were seated. "That was good timing."

"I had been following you before that," Yoketron said. "Since you left the noblemech's home, in fact."

"Oh… why didn't you come talk to me?"

"I wanted to observe. I still do."

"Alpha Trion said you're going to… teach me something. Or prepare me for…"

"Yes. I will do my best."

"How long… How long ago did Alpha Trion ask you to do it?"

"Oh, Alpha Trion didn't ask me," Yoketron said. "That's another story. But do you remember the last time we met?"

Orion nodded.

"Alpha Trion wanted me to begin training you then, but I refused," Yoketron sighed. "Perhaps I shouldn't have. But you didn't seem ready."

Orion opened his lip plates, but closed them again, unsure of what to say.

"So I apologize," Yoketron said. "I hope I can make up for the lost time."

"But you… you train mecha how to fight."

"I do."

"Primes… Primes are spiritual leaders. They don't need to know how to fight."

"Primes are more than that," Master Yoketron said. "And at certain times, they _are_ called on to learn warfare, even lead in it. And surely in light of events a few breems ago, you can see the wisdom in learning to defend yourself."

Orion looked down.

"I'm with this mech," Ironhide said. "You should at least get some weapons."

"I don't have time to learn," Orion said. "I barely have time to recharge."

He expected Yoketron to insist that learning from him was more important than running Autobot. But he nodded in acceptance. "That is all right. May I be permitted, at least for now, to simply observe you?"

Orion was taken aback. "Observe?"

"Listen in on meetings, watch you work with other mecha, perhaps talk with you in spare moments."

"Uh… of course."

"Thank you."

Orion vented a sigh. "I'm sorry I've been so rude."

"Rude?"

"You're a wise and well-known mech, and I've almost been arguing with you. Please forgive me."

"You are very much forgiven, Prime."

Orion nodded. "Thank you."

They didn't speak for the rest of the transport ride, or in the elevator up to base. Orion felt like he ought to have more questions, but at the moment, he couldn't think of any.

As soon as the door opened, though, it seemed like everyone was there, remarking on Ironhide's injuries and asking if they were alright. Orion found himself dragged to Ratchet's office so the medic could 'make sure' nothing was wrong with him before going to work on Ironhide. Then Prowl wanted to talk to him and know what it was that had happened on the way here and what the Council had wanted this time. Orion didn't want to tell him, because he didn't want to know Prowl's opinion on the matter yet, either way.

Yoketron followed Orion to meetings and interviews and then finally, late in the off-cycle, to his office, where Orion read through the memos on his desk until the silence was too much.

"So…" he said.

"So."

"What do you think?"

Yoketron was quiet for a few astroseconds. "I think what I thought when I first met you. You are a good mech and I wish that fate had dealt you a kindlier hand."

Orion looked down and shook his helm.

"Optimus Prime."

"I started a war." It came out. "I started a war and now I don't know what to do. The Council wants me to raise an army but I don't want an army. I don't want that."

Yoketron was silent.

"What do I do?"

Another long silence. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know."

"No, what do you _really_ want to do?"

Orion looked down at his desk. "I want to hide. I want to go back to being an archivist."

"You could do that," Yoketron said. "You could run away and hide somewhere and get a job as an archivist in another city.

Orion looked up.

"Will you?"

"No."

"Then you must make a different decision," Yoketron said. "You have it in you to know what is right, and the courage to follow through on that knowledge, and the power to lead the mecha around you. That is why you are a Prime. I can't tell you what you should do because I don't know what you should do. But I am confident that if you make a choice, it will be the right one, because _you_ are the mech Primus chose to make this choice."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out.

"I must leave now. I will return next orn to visit you."

Orion nodded. "I will see you then."

"Primus be with you."

"And you."

Yoketron left. The door closed behind him. Orion sat back in his chair. What was right? Who could he trust? What should he do? If, as Halogen had said, this war was too late to avoid, was it his responsibility to fight in it? Was it his responsibility to raise an army for the Council?

No.

If he gave the Council an army, he would be betraying everything he'd worked for. He could not put more power into their corrupt hands.

But it _was_ his responsibility to stop Megatronus.

He commed Prowl. _"I need to talk to you."_

Prowl's response was prompt. _"Oh good, I knew there was something you weren't telling me."_

If they _had_ to have an army—if they _had_ to have a war—then it was going to be Orion's army and Orion's war, not the Council's.

That was why he was a Prime.

* * *

Master Yoketron sat down across from his old ally. They were silent for a few breems.

"You are still upset with me about something," Alpha Trion said.

"I am still considering," Yoketron replied. "I think that if there is a way to stop this war before it begins in earnest, then we should be concentrating our efforts on that."

"There is no way."

"But I do not want to facilitate… I don't want to be part of this war. I do not want to teach that mech how to kill."

Alpha Trion frowned. "Have you spoken to him yet?"

"Yes, and I've followed him around all orn."

"And?"

"He is doing admirably under the circumstances, but he is stretched to the breaking point. He cringes every time anymech addresses him by his title, and he is surrounded by mecha making demands without offering to help."

"Hmph," Alpha Trion said. "Sounds familiar."

"He's a sparkling, Alpha Trion," Yoketron said.

"No." Alpha Trion replied. "He may be young, but he's no sparkling, and he bears his responsibility well."

"He does not know how to delegate." Yoketron said. "And he does not trust himself."

"The Primal Trials will help him learn those things. And you can teach him as well, while you teach him to fight."

Yoketron sighed. "I know. But I cannot teach him as quickly as you want me to."

"You must," Alpha Trion said. "You have a quarter of a vorn to prepare him."

"It takes a vorn, even two, to prepare to be a Prime," Yoketron said. "To rush it is very dangerous."

Alpha Trion shook his helm. "Perhaps he would be prepared if you had been willing to teach him when I asked the first time."

But he hadn't even been ready to know who he was. And Yoketron hadn't been ready either.

"And," Alpha Trion added, "to address your reluctance to get involved, I suggest you watch the recordings of that gladiator fighting."

Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "Why?"

"It is very clear to me, Master Yoketron, that you have been involved in this conflict for quite some time. You've already trained the champion for the other side."

Yoketron froze.

Alpha Trion got up. "Good off-cycle. I will speak to you here at this same time in one decaorn, and I expect you to be making some progress with our new Prime by then."

He left.

Yoketron sat for a few breems, deeply troubled. Trained Megatron? He had done no such thing, nor had he trained anyone in Kaon for decavorns.

He could not possibly have trained Megatron.

But now he had to see.

He searched public databases for any videos of the Kaonian gladiator fighting. It didn't take very long for him to see what Alpha Trion had been talking about.

And it didn't take much longer for him to recognize the now much-changed mech.

Searchlight.

Things that he hadn't understood clicked into place. Soundwave's betrayal, Megatron's talent for leadership. Searchlight.

Primus, what had he done? That mech had been nearly unstoppable as a youngling. Now he had power and had somehow lost his innocence and integrity.

"Why didn't you warn me?" Yoketron whispered. "I did this, didn't I? Primus, why didn't you stop me?"

But he knew what he had promised. And it was no longer a question. He had to do his best to even the playing field, despite the destruction he knew his involvement would facilitate. He knew Searchlight. He knew what Orion was up against. Rash, but powerfully charismatic, Megatron would allow things to get out of hand, to go too far, to destroy more fully than the Quintessons ever had or ever would have.

He needed to be stopped.

Perhaps, Yoketron could go to Kaon and stop him.

No.

He had made a vow to Primus. He would keep that promise. He had one more student to teach, and he couldn't do that if he risked his own life trying to sneak into Kaon to offline what was left of Searchlight.

One more student to teach.

Or maybe two. Primus knew Orion wasn't the only one who had things to learn.


	3. Outsiders

"I am _so_ done with this," Moonracer pushed her chair away from the desk, stretching. "I can't read one more piece of hate mail or one more stupid question about what we're going to do now."

Elita looked up from the reply she was typing.

"I did not sign up to be fragging customer service," Moonracer said.

"Customer service gets paid," Chromia added from her post leaning in the doorway. She hadn't even turned her computer on this on-cycle.

"Yeah," Moonracer said. "They should be paying us for this."

Elita frowned and went back to work, finishing her response and sending it.

"It's too early in the orn to be doing this anyway," Moonracer said. "My processor's not even all the way online yet. We should do something else for a few joors."

"But this is important," Elita said.

Moonracer raised an optic ridge at her.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," Chromia said. "I'm stuck here because my bondmate is involved. But the two of you can leave if you want."

Elita opened the next message, but had a hard time focusing on the words.

"Hey, Ellie," Chromia said.

"Yes?" Elita said quietly. "I know you're both bored. You can go take an orn off if you want. That's perfectly fine."

"No," Chromia said. "This is getting ridiculous."

"Really," Moonracer said. "You're normally a workaholic, but this is getting—"

"The cause needs us more than ever," Elita took her fingers off of the keys and closed her fists. "And maybe both of you would like to abandon it for personal reasons, but I will not."

Silence fell and Elita felt terrible for snapping at them.

"Personal reasons?" Chromia said, pushing away from the wall and navigating through the room full of desks. Mirage had given them a second floor of his tower, and they had filled it with computers and offices and living spaces for various mecha from Autobot.

"I'm sorry," Elita said. "I didn't mean—"

"Look," Chromia said. "You can make up slag about doing this for the Autobot cause until your voice box falls to pieces, but _don't_ try and accuse _us_ of making decisions based on personal reasons."

Elita didn't know how to respond to that without getting angry and defensive.

It still hurt.

The physical ache in her spark had faded, but she still felt like there was a gaping hole inside of her. She could never forget it. One moment he had been there. She could feel him over the bond—his spark, his emotions, his presence. And the next moment he had been gone. She would do anything to go back to that moment, or any moment before.

They hadn't even had one vorn together.

But she couldn't let herself be bitter. Cybertron needed a Prime, and she didn't dare put her own needs before those of the entire planet.

"Look," Moonracer said. "I think we've all reached our limit. You too, Ellie. Let's all take an orn off or something."

Elita shook her helm.

She didn't want to take an orn off.

"Why?" Chromia said, standing right in front of Elita's desk. "Mecha's questions can wait. Elita, look at me."

Elita didn't want to.

Chromia didn't understand—no one understood.

"Hey!" Chromia grabbed Elita's shoulder.

"Leave me alone," Elita finally looked up.

"Talk to us," Chromia said. "Stop—"

"Stop what?" Elita said. "I _know._ I _know_ you want me to get over Orion and move on... But you don't get it. First and foremost, I _am_ helping because I believe in the cause—I believe in making the changes that need to be made in society. I believe that—"

"That Orion can fix everything?" Chromia said. "Ellie, this is the biggest mess on the face of the planet. The smart thing to do is leave. Orion obviously isn't going to be able to fix _anything._ He's not the mech you think he is."

"How can you say that?" Elita demanded, staring up at her sister. "He's more amazing than any of us knew. He was chosen to become the Prime."

"Yeah. He _gave you up_ to become the Prime. I know he means well, but that's not enough, and I hate watching you suffer every orn. Moonracer and I can _feel_ it through the sibling bond every time you see him."

Elita gripped the table. "There's nothing anyone can do about that."

"Elita."

"He did not mean to hurt me, and he still cares about me."

"So?"

"So I'm not giving up. Maybe I can't have a bond with him, but that doesn't mean we don't love each other."

"When was the last time he actually _talked_ to you?" Chromia demanded.

Elita looked down.

Four orns. It had been four orns and three joors since she'd had any sort of conversation with him outside of meetings.

"That's what I thought."

"He's busy," Elita said.

"I know," Chromia said.

"And so am I."

Chromia looked like she wanted to keep talking, but then Elita received a message on her comm. from Prowl calling an unofficial meeting.

"Did you get that?" Moonracer asked.

"Yeah," Chromia said.

Elita nodded, grateful for the excuse to end the conversation, but still feeling frustrated with her sisters, and the whole situation.

They filed out of the room and headed up to the floor above. Prowl, Ratchet, Red Alert, and Perceptor were already waiting in the meeting room when they got there. Just the core members of Autobot, except for Orion and Ironhide.

"Good," Prowl said, once the door had closed behind the femmes. "We're all here now."

"What is this about?" Red Alert demanded. "Why are we having a meeting behind Optimus's back?"

"We are _not_." Prowl said. "Optimus would have been here, but he has already been summoned by the Council."

"What is he going to tell them?" Perceptor asked. "We _can't_ raise an army for them."

"We have to," Prowl said. "If we don't, then the Council will try to raise an army on their own and Megatron will come and wage war on them."

"Wait, we _are_ going to raise an army?" Moonracer said. "Why is that any better than letting them raise one? Won't Megatron attack us then?"

"Hold on," Chromia crossed her arms. "You're saying that Prime went to tell the Council that we're going to _give in_ to their demands?"

"No," Prowl said, doorwings twitching. "If you'd let me finish, maybe we can stop wasting time with questions I am _going_ to answer."

Chromia narrowed her optics but didn't say anything.

"The Council wants to use our influence to raise an army," Prowl said. "But that's not what we're going to do." His doorwings twitched again. He looked… almost nervous. "We're going to raise an army, but we're going to raise the army for us. The Autobots will not belong to the Council. Optimus will be the overall commander of the army, and we will administrate and run everything ourselves, so that the Council can't use us."

Silence fell.

"We're going to _what_?" Red Alert demanded.

"Forgive me for my doubts," Perceptor said. "But how can we run an army? None of us have any military experience."

"Well, that's what we have to discuss while Orion is negotiating with the Council," Prowl said.

"Negotiating?" Chromia said.

"We will still need their support. Obviously, even Mirage's fortune can't fund an entire army. That is not the point. The point is, we need to come up with lists of mecha who could fill certain roles in the command structure. We need mecha who have military or enforcement experience, communications experts, negotiators."

Elita looked down. She couldn't really envision Orion leading an army. She wished she could talk to him about it, instead of Prowl.

"No," Moonracer said. "This is crazy. You're slagging crazy. We probably can't _raise_ an army much less lead one."

"Well, no one's asking you specifically to do it," Prowl said. "Thank Primus."

Moonracer snapped back at him, and Chromia joined the argument. Red Alert added his voice and Ratchet spoke up too. Elita watched sorrowfully as the conversation got more heated.

Perceptor glanced at her and she could see his distress as well.

She wished Orion were here. He would know what to say to them.

No.

This had gone far enough.

She was sick of everyone fighting. She had to get their attention, but she didn't feel like shouting. She looked around the room, and then remembered that Ironhide had given her a present the other orn.

She pulled the handgun out of subspace, energized it, set it to low power, and then shot up at the ceiling, shuttering her optics as she squeezed the trigger.

The plasma blast wasn't deafeningly loud, but it cut through the noise. Someone—probably Red Alert—screamed, and then all fell silent. Elita un-shuttered her optics to see everyone staring at her.

"Thank you." She kept the gun pointed at the ceiling. "I have something to say."

She met Chromia's optics and then Prowl's.

"Our Prime has made a decision about how he would like us to proceed," she subspaced her gun again. "And I don't understand it, but I'm going to support him in it. Even if you don't share the same sentiment, arguing with _each other_ isn't going to accomplish anything. So we might as well start talking about becoming an army."

"Thank you, Elita," Prowl said.

Elita nodded.

"Now—"

"Excuse me?" Chromia cut Prowl off. "Elita is talking here, not you."

Prowl glared at her, but then sighed and looked to Elita. "Go ahead."

Everyone was staring at her again. Her intention had just been to stop the arguing, not take over the meeting, but when she glanced at Chromia, her sister nodded.

"Um… ok. Prowl, I'm sure you have a list of resources that we're going to need and positions we'll need to fill for an army. Can you read it to us? Afterward we'll brainstorm."

Prowl nodded and pulled a datapad from subspace.

* * *

Orion stood before the Council, feeling terrified but surprisingly in control. For the first time in decaorns, he knew what he was going to say.

"Well," Halogen said. "I assume you have considered our orders and are fully ready to comply with us."

"I have considered your request, yes," Orion said.

Halogen leaned forward with a disapproving frown, looming over Orion. "Do not attempt to play games with us, mechling. Surely you can't be considering defying us. This world cannot afford that."

"I understand," Orion said. "But I will not be your puppet. If you want me to raise an army, it will not be your army. It will be _my_ army."

The Council Hall fell silent. Orion glanced at Alpha Trion and thought he saw the mech smile.

Then another Councilmech, Senator Ratbat, snorted. "Your army?" he said. "With you at the helm, I suppose? And _your_ generals, and _your_ captains, and strategists, and your credit?"

Orion didn't say anything.

"Optimus Prime," Halogen said. "Do you truly believe you are qualified to lead an army?"

"No, your honor," Orion said. "But…" how to put it. "I am not saying we wouldn't be working together on this. Only a few of my mecha know how to fight, though many of them do have leadership skills. This would require us to cooperate, and I would surely accept the help of your Elite Guard and others with military experience. But in the end, the army would answer to me, not to you."

"And how are we supposed to believe you will not turn this army against us once the conflict is over?" Another Councilmech asked.

Orion shook his helm. "You of this Council, for the most part, are traitors to the mecha of Cybertron. I cannot promise to support you in your offices. But surely you can see that's not what the fight is about. Your power is hanging by an energon line as it is, and I cannot promise to preserve it. But I will give you my word of honor as a Prime that if you cooperate with me I will remove all charges against you at the end of the conflict and allow you to live."

He let them think about that for an astrosecond, and then added. "You know it is a better deal than Megatron would offer you." And much better than they deserved. He met Halogen's optics calmly.

"Leave us," Halogen said. "We need to discuss this."

Orion nodded and left the room. He could wait.

He wasn't sure how long they were going to be so he sat in the waiting room, allowing his processor to wander. He knew Prowl was, even now, working on finding mecha from Autobot who could fill the necessary roles. If the Council refused to work with him on this, then he would refuse to raise an army. He wasn't sure what he would do if the Council decided to arrest him. He knew Red Alert was ready to evacuate everyone from Mirage's tower if that became necessary, but he worried about all the other mecha in Iacon and around the world.

If the Council got rid of him, then there would be no counterpoint to Megatron's rallying cry, and many more mecha would join him.

Orion was waiting nearly a joor before a mech came to tell him the Council was ready to give him their decision. When he entered, he saw he was not alone. Another mech stood with him on the Council floor—tall and imposing, with high shoulders and similar colors to Orion. He stood like a statue and wouldn't meet Orion's gaze.

"After some deliberation," Halogen said, "We have decided that we will humor you for now. One condition, though. You have insisted that you are to lead your army. However, if we are to truly cooperate, we must have mecha in its hierarchy as well. This is Ultra Magnus, High Commander of the Elite Guard. He is loyal to us, but he will be very useful to you so long as you don't make an attempt to use your army against anyone besides the Decepticons. He will be your second in command."

Of course. A countermove.

They couldn't possibly expect him to agree to that. Orion couldn't so willingly accept a stranger—a probable spy—into a position so influential.

But at the same time, they hadn't tried to sneak one of the Councilmechs in, just a guard—someone who might actually be able to help. Orion looked into the faceplates of the Councilmechs. Some seemed hopeful. Others, Ratbat included, looked resentful. Halogen's expression was unreadable. And when Orion looked at Alpha Trion, his former mentor nodded slightly.

Very well then.

"For now," Orion said. "I will accept that arrangement."

Halogen nodded. "Then you may leave. We will call on you next orn to report to us."

Orion nodded, and turned to leave. The other mech, Ultra Magnus, followed him silently. There was something uncomfortably stiff and unfriendly about him.

This was not going to go over well.

They walked out of the Council Hall. Ironhide froze when he saw the mech following Orion.

"Ironhide," Orion said. "This is Ultra…"

"Magnus," Ironhide finished. "I know. What is _he_ doing here?"

Ultra Magnus shot Ironhide a stern glare.

"He's… coming back to base with us."

Ironhide looked very uneasy about that. "Why?"

Orion opened his lip plates, then closed them again. He turned to Magnus expectantly. They shouldn't be talking about the mech like he wasn't there.

"I have been appointed by the Council as second in command of the Autobot army." Ultra Magnus said.

"Oh," Ironhide looked even more unhappy. "But, Orion, we can't…"

"That is not his designation, traitor," Magnus said.

Ironhide glared.

It already wasn't going over well.

"It's not ideal," Orion said. "I understand that, but the Council didn't argue with me about being in charge of the army."

"No, they didn't, they just appointed one of their own mecha to be in charge instead. They might as well have—"

"Not here!" Orion snapped, realizing they were attracting attention. "We will discuss this later." He led the way to their transport—which Red Alert had insisted on hiring after they'd been attacked the orn before.

The three of them climbed into the transport. There was a cold, uncomfortable silence all the way back to base.

Everyone was waiting for him in the main room to see what the Council had said, and to hear what was going to happen. Orion dreaded what he knew would be an orn full of arguing and difficulties.

"All right," Ironhide said. "Here's the way this is going to work. Prime's going to tell you all what's happening, then the core members of Autobot will go into another room and discuss it further. That's Orion, myself, Perceptor, Ratchet, my bonded, and her sisters.

"And me," Mirage said from the corner. "This is _my_ home."

"And me!" Red Alert said. "And Prowl!"

"Shut up and let Orion talk!" Ironhide said. "I'm fed up with all of you."

The room fell quiet.

"Good news, everyone," Orion said. "The Council has decided to work with us and we will be leading the Autobot army without their direct supervision."

There was a decently loud cheer.

"And this is Ultra Magnus. He's the head of the Elite Guard."

No cheer this time.

Orion braced himself. "He is going to be assisting us… um… as second in command of the army."

Orion counted the silence. One astrosecond. Two…

"What!" Red Alert said.

"No!"

"Surely they can't be serious."

"Everyone…" Orion said quietly.

"The Council can't make demands like that."

"We can't have one of their mecha in charge."

"This is an _obvious_ trap."

Orion looked to Ironhide for help, but the mech only shrugged.

"Okay," Orion said. "Calm down. Calm down!"

The chatter died to an angry muttering.

"I have already agreed to this for now." Orion said. "Now stop! I said for now. I am _aware_ of the situation and the threats to our position." He took in a deep vent and sighed it out. "I apologize for how difficult things have been over the past few decaorns and I apologize for how fast things are changing and I apologize for having misjudged Megatronus so badly. But we're still Autobot, and our organization has the same goals it did before. We just have to learn to go about things differently. I know that's hard, but we're going to have to take some chances. I told the Council that I'll lead the army, but it doesn't need to be me. If you don't trust me, which I would completely understand, then find someone you can trust and we'll put them in charge of this, but it _has_ to happen. Megatronus already has an army, and I hate to say it, but our words may not be enough to stop him."

Silence again. Then Perceptor spoke up. "I don't think we have to look for anyone else. We trust you, Orion."

Murmurs of agreement swept the room.

Orion nodded. "Thank you. That means a lot. I will not take that trust lightly."

"All right," Prowl said. "Moving on. We should reconvene in the conference hall."

Orion nodded, and he and the small, specified group made their way to a smaller room. Ultra Magnus followed them, as did Master Yoketron.

Yoketron? Where had he come from? Orion hadn't seen him or talked to him since the orn before.

Once they were all in the room, Red Alert spoke up. "What are those two doing here?"

"They can stay," Orion said.

"Before we discuss anything else," Prowl said. "We have made a list of candidates for each position that is necessary in an army. I have put it on your desk and I ask you to look through it. If you want, we can also go through it in this meeting."

"That's not important right now," Red Alert said. "The first thing we need to talk about is him!" he pointed at Ultra Magnus. "He can't be in here. He's obviously a spy."

"Please be—" Orion started, but Chromia cut him off.

"I thought you said you weren't going to bend to the Council's will. Why are you making compromises?"

"Could we all calm down?" Perceptor asked. "And let him explain himself?"

"And who is that?" Chromia pointed to Master Yoketron, who was standing by the door, looking serene.

"I was wondering the same," Prowl said.

"Master Yoketron?" Ratchet stared at him.

"Yes," Yoketron nodded. "I am sorry. I haven't been introduced to all of you yet. Alpha Trion has asked me to teach the Prime how to defend himself. I will be taking some of his time for that in the future."

"Why do you get to sit in on meetings?" Red Alert demanded.

"I am observing."

"Observing what?" Red Alert asked.

"Thank you for asking," Yoketron said. "Permit me to be somewhat bold." He crossed his arms. "So far, I have observed youngling-like bickering and selfishness from nearly all of you. You will never learn to be an effective leadership unit if you do not have respect for each other and speak in turns."

The room was quiet.

"Thank you," Master Yoketron nodded. "That was all I had to say."

Red Alert made as if to reply, but then shut his lip plates, looking embarrassed.

Orion took in a deep vent, silently thanking the circuit-su master with all of his spark. "I am sorry for acting rashly. I should have told the Council we would think about this and discus it before I agreed to it. But for now, Ultra Magnus is my second in command. Uh… if we could, I'd like to know your thoughts on that matter and any objections you might have. But please let's take turns and refrain from arguing."

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious that they've only sent him here to spy on us," Red Alert said. "And I'm sure that they also have plans to maneuver him into a position where he's in charge, either by offlining you or manipulating you."

Orion nodded. "That is a valid concern."

"A concern?" Red Alert said. "This is your life we're talking about! And that…" He pointed to Magnus, "is an assassin!"

Ultra Magnus shot Red Alert a cold stare.

"No," Ironhide said. "He's not an assassin. I'm sure of that." He looked like he wanted to say more, but perhaps not in front of Magnus. "But he _is_ loyal to the Council."

"Also," Chromia said. "As I said earlier, I thought we weren't going to be pandering to the Council's demands."

"We have to make some agreements with them," Orion said. "They are corrupt. But we have to work with them or Iacon will be divided and vulnerable to attack. We can't let our pride or personal dislike of the Council put the whole city—even the whole planet—in danger."

Chromia narrowed her optics, then sighed. "I don't know why you always have to be right about everything."

"Are there any other concerns?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "As second in command, what exactly would his responsibilities be?"

That one, Orion had no idea how to answer.

"We have no experience with his strengths or abilities," Prowl said.

"All right," Orion turned to Magnus. "Ultra Magnus, would you mind introducing yourself and suggesting what you think your function in your position ought to be?"

Ultra Magnus seemed to consider for a few astroseconds. "I am Ultra Magnus," he said. "High Commander of the Elite Guard, and charged with the responsibility of keeping the Council safe. I presume my responsibility will be to advise in matters of military organization and leadership, and also to speak in behalf of the Prime when he is not present."

Silence fell.

"So if Orion's not around, we would have to do what you said?" Moonracer crossed her arms.

"Unless it contradicted his orders," Magnus said. "That is the function of a second in command. And I insist that you address me as 'sir.'"

Moonracer glared at him.

"Surely you can see that's not reasonable," Red Alert spoke again. "He'll undermine your authority, Orion."

Orion sighed. "We can't know that for sure. But we _do_ need advice. Ironhide, you know this mech better than the rest of us. Will he keep his word?"

"To pit and back," Ironhide said.

Orion turned to Magnus again. "Will you give your word that you'll honor my authority and my orders while you stand in the position you hold?"

Ultra Magnus hesitated, then nodded. "So far as your orders are not threatening to the welfare or safety of the Council, you have my word."

"Thank you," Orion said, then looked around the room. "That's good enough for me, and for now I would ask that you accept it as well. Are there any more concerns?"

Silence. Orion could see that they were still uneasy about this. He was uneasy too. They would need to have an even more exclusive meeting later, with just him and a few others.

"I still object," Red Alert said.

"Red Alert, what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. I just object."

"Well," Prowl said, "Until you think of a solution to the problem, you should keep your lip plates shut. Can we move on?"

The rest of the meeting featured a large amount of arguing. They discussed how to start their campaign, how to recruit, and who should hold what position. Some of them didn't want Red Alert to be head of security and some of them wanted to kick Prowl out and Mirage kept insisting they needed to find another base to use, but they couldn't agree on where. By the end of the meeting, they had only made about half of the necessary decisions, and Orion's processor felt like it was going to explode.

They all got up to leave, but Master Yoketron shot Orion a quick comm. asking him to stay, and to keep Prowl behind as well.

Orion commed Prowl, and the three of them hung back as the others left. Ironhide glanced back at Orion, but Orion waved him off, and in a few astroseconds, they were alone in the conference room. The door shut.

"What is it?" Prowl asked. Orion looked to Yoketron.

"There are a few things I would like to talk about," Yoketron said. "First, Optimus Prime, you will need to spend a considerable amount of time training with me. Now, I know that you don't have that time at the moment, but you can make time."

"How?"

"You will stop trying to do everything yourself."

"Am I needed in this conversation?" Prowl asked.

Yoketron nodded. "Yes. Patience, mechling. Prime, it is obvious to me that if you want to succeed, you cannot continue to work as you've been working. As you so wisely said earlier this orn, things are changing. So must you."

Orion looked down. "I don't…" He didn't know how to do this. He had a responsibility to keep things running smoothly. "I don't know how to rearrange things to give me more time."

"It is good for you to admit that," Yoketron said. "You are humble. You are also young. You don't have all the answers."

"But I am in charge."

"Yes. And it is good for you to keep that in your processor as well. The Autobots are _not_ a committee. As a Prime, and especially as the leader of your future army, _you_ are the authority. You make the decisions."

Orion felt even worse. "I don't know if I should have that responsibility."

"You should," Yoketron assured him. "However, you should not be the source of all the answers. I think you should start expecting more from your associates. It seems they only question and do not come up with solutions on their own."

"Actually…" Prowl said.

"I asked for your patience," Master Yoketron cut him off, then looked at Orion again. "So I suggest that you make the decisions about who to appoint to what position. Asking for others' opinions is good, but allowing them to argue about their opinions for joors is not productive. I also suggest that you stop traveling personally to the Council Hall. That wastes your time and puts you at risk. Is there anyone you can trust to go in your place and represent you to them?"

Orion looked down, then glanced at Prowl.

"Not him." Yoketron said.

Prowl glared at Yoketron, then deflated. "I can't argue with that."

No, not Prowl. Prowl wouldn't know diplomacy if it hit him in the faceplate.

Not Ironhide, he'd get angry. Perceptor was terrified of the Council, and Orion couldn't ask the professor to speak for him. He also couldn't bear to put Elita in danger, even though he knew she'd be a good spokesperson. She wasn't an option.

Actually, he didn't want to put anyone in danger. "I can't ask someone else to do that," Orion said. "Dealing with the Council is… difficult, and not necessarily safe."

"A valid point," Yoketron said.

"Do you have a suggestion?" Orion asked.

"I do." Yoketron said. "How about Ultra Magnus?"

"Trust him to speak to the Council on Orion's behalf?" Prowl said.

Yoketron nodded.

"I suppose…" Prowl flicked his doorwings. "He'll be reporting back to the Council anyway. And it will get him out of the way for joors at a time. But then we won't have any way of knowing or controlling what agreements he makes with them for us."

"I don't know whether I can trust him," Orion said.

"When you go to the Council, what takes place?" Yoketron asked. "Are you making agreements with each other and resolving concerns, or do they simply make demands?"

Orion frowned. "Well… demands, mostly."

"Then why not let them make their demands through their own representative? Just make it clear to him that he's not allowed to agree to anything without your permission."

Prowl nodded. "That might actually work."

"I apologize for my rudeness, Prowl," Yoketron said. "But I am speaking to the Prime. Optimus?"

"I will think about it," Orion said.

It seemed Prowl was fed up with this. "Why am I here if not to take part in the conversation?" he asked.

Yoketron looked at him.

"What?" Prowl said.

"I am curious about that myself," Orion added.

"Very well," Yoketron said. "The reason I want to talk to you both is to explain what I will be asking of you. Prime, you need to prepare yourself to receive the Matrix of Leadership, but that is not all you must learn. I will also be instructing you in circuit-su, and eventually in other forms of fighting so that you will be able to defend yourself and even fight alongside your soldiers on occasion."

"What does this have to do with me?" Prowl demanded.

"I rarely take only one student at a time," Yoketron said. "Orion needs a sparring partner who is closer to his level, and you, my friend also have a variety of things to learn before you can fulfill your duties."

"I already know how to fight," Prowl said. "And I have training in several diff—"

Master Yoketron moved so quickly Orion could barely follow him. In a moment, Prowl was on the ground.

"Do not presume to tell me what you do or do not need to learn. And do not turn down my generous offer until I have given you at least _some_ training."

Prowl got to his pedes looking very annoyed.

"I could hardly assume you had _no_ training in fighting." Yoketron said. "You were an enforcer after all. But proficiency is not enough. I want to see you both next orn at ten joors. I will only keep you a few joors the first time, but I do expect you to make time to be there."

"But…" Prowl said.

"We'll be there," Orion said.

"There is no time to—"

"We will be there. Prowl?"

"Fine," Prowl said. "Are we done talking?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "For now. I will send you coordinates and expect to see you next orn. You may go, Prowl." Prowl left and the door closed behind him.

"Thank you," Orion said. "For what you said in the meeting."

Master Yoketron nodded. "You are very welcome, Prime."

"And…" Orion wasn't sure how to ask. Fortunately, Yoketron seemed to read his thoughts.

"Would it make you more comfortable if I were to call you Orion?"

"Yes."

"You will need to get used to the title eventually."

"I don't like it," Orion admitted. "I'm no better than anyone else. And no more important."

"I'm glad you see things that way." Yoketron said. "But the reality is that sometimes we must take on titles we do not feel we deserve, and do our best with them."

Then he turned and left the room.


	4. Assignments

I watched as the last of the paintless, malnourished mecha stepped out into the sunlight. I didn't need to be in range of them to see the wonder on their faceplates as they stared up at the sky, overcome.

This was the last of them.

There were no more slaves in Kaon.

Megatron climbed up onto a nearby mining drill to address them, and I stood nearby and stretched out my range, listening in more ways than one.

"My friends," Megatron called. "You are free!"

They cheered, weak, but exuberant. Some of them hadn't seen the sky for more than a vorn. Most of them had heard of the gladiator, Megatronus, and his pledge to return and free the miners, but few had believed it would happen.

And now it had happened.

When the cheers died out, Megatron continued. "We have brought energon and other supplies, which you may make use of before you go your separate ways. You will be free to return to your homes, wherever they may be, to be reunited with your friends and loved ones, and to pursue the lives of peace and prosperity that you deserve."

There was another cheer, but Megatron held up a hand for silence, and the crowd calmed down, waiting for more.

"Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go. However, before you disperse, I have one request. My friends, you are not the only mecha who have suffered. Some innocents still toil in the mines of Tarn and Slaughter City, ruled by corrupt Councils and tyrannical mine lords.

"Your determination to keep living through all of your hardships has made you strong, and we need strong mecha to keep the cause moving forward. We need soldiers forged in the slave mines and slums. Our foolish oppressors thought they were crushing us, but they were only preparing us to rise up against them. And we will show them how strong they have made us.

"As I have said, you are free. I will not press you into service. But I ask all of you, my friends, my fellow common mecha: give back to this cause that has liberated you. Join with me and with each other, and we will liberate _all of Cybertron!_ "

There was another cheer, even stronger this time, and Megatron stepped down. Another mech climbed up on the drill and started shouting instructions to the crowd about lining up to get energon, and where to go if they needed medical attention.

I pulled my range in and followed Megatron to a small shelter we'd set up nearby.

"So?" he said.

"Eighty percent."

He nodded. "That many? That's good."

"Eighty percent what?" Straxus, Megatron's current second in command spoke up from the corner of the room where he was lurking, arms crossed.

"Eighty percent of the miners are going to join the army," Megatron explained.

"Approximately," I added.

"Hmm," Straxus said. _We aren't going to be able to feed an army if those mines stop producing. And we can't pay enough to get mecha to actually_ want _to work in them, even if we give them better equipment._

"You don't look pleased," Megatron said.

"Just thinking about our resources," Straxus pushed away from the wall. _And how can that faceless mech guess the statistics with so much confidence? It's not like he can read their processors…_

"Don't worry," Megatron said. "We'll fill the mines again before too long."

Straxus nodded. "If you say so."

"The confusion and slaughtering of civilians in Kaon was a mistake I don't intend to repeat when we expand."

"I kinda liked it," Straxus smirked.

Megatron raised an optic ridge at him.

"Not as exciting as the arena, but more satisfying. Don't look at me like that, you were a gladiator too."

"I was," Megatron said. "And you know I don't have any problem with killing, when it is necessary." _I can't feed him the glorious liberation of Cybertron story, though. That's not what he wants to hear, and I need him on my side. He's one of the few gladiators with any semblance of intelligence._ "But even mecha who don't agree with us can still be persuaded to help us."

Straxus nodded, satisfied. Then he remembered something he'd been going to tell Megatron. "Oh, speaking of resources, we got word from Central, just ten breems ago while you were in the mines. Demolishor had our supporters bring in some more medics from around the city-state, so we should have enough of them now for the army."

"Good," Megatron said. "All good news, this orn. Do we know what the Iacon Council and their pet Prime are doing?"

"I haven't heard anything for a while," Straxus said.

Megatron nodded. "I'll have to get that report from Jazz later. Soundwave, I'm going to go out and meet some of the miners personally." _Let me know over the comm. if you think any of them would do well in leadership roles. We're sorely lacking in mecha with administrative talent._

I nodded, and he left to mingle among the mecha he had saved.

We were in a precarious position, because most of the mecha in charge of anything had been offlined and we couldn't do anything if Kaon slipped back into chaos. We had a lot of work to do, and a lot of things to figure out.

Megatron still wasn't sure how he was going to replace the miners, but the ideas he _did_ have weren't very ethical.

I would have to wait for the right moment, and then confront him about that.

At least he was honestly happy about releasing the slaves in the mines. He felt a connection with them and he enjoyed talking to them, getting to know them, and helping them. It brought him back to a time before the gladiator pits had damaged him.

I had hoped that once Kaon had fallen to us, he would be satisfied.

But it had been a foolish hope. There were other mines in other city-states. There were other slaves, other Councils, other pockets of injustice like a disease, all over the globe.

So we had a lot more work to do before this conflict was over.

* * *

Orion took in a deep vent. "Sit down."

Ultra Magnus sat across the desk from him. He was just so _big_. He barely seemed to fit in the room.

"So," Orion said. "I know I'm not interviewing you for your position, seeing as you already have your position. But I thought we could speak for a few breems."

It was like addressing a wall.

 _This is what I'm supposed to be,_ Orion thought. _Maybe they should have made this mech Prime._

"So, uh…" Orion said. "How long have you been in charge of the Elite Guard?"

"Thirty-one vorns, Prime Sir. And I've been a member of the Guard for ninety-four."

That was quite a long time to keep the same job. "Do you… enjoy it?"

Magnus looked confused.

"I mean being in charge of the Elite Guard. Do you enjoy it?"

"It… well, that is no longer my position." Magnus said. "But I suppose I did. Is this pertinent, Prime Sir?"

"I wanted to know," Orion said. "Also… I know you've only been here for an orn, but please, if you have ideas or recommendations, speak up. All I know about armies is from history books. I'm sure you've already seen things that we need to do differently…"

Magnus nodded. "You must demand more respect from your subordinates, Sir."

"I've been told that," Orion admitted.

"And your mecha are not organized enough to be an effective military leadership."

"I agree," Orion said. "We're working on that—we've got to figure out what everyone's role will be. Umm… Also, I was wondering if you would agree to speak with the Council in my behalf next time they summon me."

Magnus looked taken aback. "You would trust me to do that, Prime Sir?"

" _Can_ I trust you to do it?"

"Yes, Sir, but…"

"That's enough for me, for now." Orion said. "Make no mistake, you will not be making any decisions for me. But you can listen to their demands, then relay them back to me. I don't have time to be traveling back and forth across Iacon Central on their whim so..."

Magnus nodded. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I suggest that you make it an order."

Orion was confused. "Why?"

"Respectfully speaking, Prime Sir, I've never heard you give an order."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to be polite and ask mecha instead of ordering them around."

Magnus frowned. "Again, speaking respectfully, if you intend to be in command of an army, you will need to give orders."

Okay. Orion took in a deep vent. "Very well, then… uh… Ultra Magnus, I… appoint you as my liaison with the Council and order you to appear before them whenever they summon me." Orion felt like an idiot. He also felt almost like laughing.

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you."

Silence fell.

"Do you have more questions for me, Sir?"

"Yes…" Orion said. "Just one."

Magnus looked at him expectantly.

"Why are you loyal to the Council?"

Magnus blinked.

"I know you are. And I am willing to accept that. And if you would rather not answer…"

"I am loyal to the Iacon High Council because I swore an oath to protect them upon entering the Elite Guard," Ultra Magnus said and locked optics with Orion. "That is the only reason, Prime Sir."

They held each others' gaze for a moment, then Orion looked away. "Thank you… I understand. That will be all for now. Do you have somewhere to stay in the tower?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We'll have a meeting at eighteen joors in the main meeting room. Will you come to that?"

Magnus hesitated, as if waiting for something.

Oh.

"I… expect you to be there," Orion revised.

"Yes, Sir."

Magnus left. Orion leaned back in his chair and vented a sigh of relief, glad that was over.

Then he took a few breems to reflect on the conversation. He was certain Alpha Trion had had a hand in choosing Ultra Magnus for the Autobot second in command. But Orion was still wary of trusting him. It would be very easy—too easy—to ask this older, more experienced mech to take over and start making decisions for him.

But Orion couldn't do that.

He looked down at his list to see who was next. He didn't recognize the designation, but Prowl's notes said that this mech was a colleague of Perceptor's, and that the professor had recommended him.

Orion called him in.

He was an older mech with a conservative green and gray paint job and a calm, thoughtful demeanor.

"Sit down," Orion said.

The mech sat across from him. "Good orn," he said pleasantly. "It's good to meet you. I'm Mainspring."

Orion nodded. "Orion… I mean, Optimus Prime I suppose."

"What would you like me to call you?"

"Orion."

Mainspring nodded.

"So," Orion said. "Perceptor recommended you for a position in what we're expecting to become an army. Were you informed about that?"

"Yes," Mainspring said. "Prowl briefed me, and I am willing to accept the position if you ask me to. Head of intelligence, was it?"

Orion nodded. They would normally have put Jazz in charge of intelligence, but with him not there, and with the necessity of keeping his true loyalty a secret, Prowl had thought it wise to appoint someone else, at least temporarily.

"So…" Orion said. "Tell me about yourself. You were a professor at the Academy?"

"I was teaching psychology, and a few forensics classes as well, until I was fired for being affiliated with your organization. I don't have many qualifications when it comes to leadership roles, but I _was_ a secondary school headmaster for a short period of time. I've also been a school counselor, a professor, and an archivist. I have experience with enforcement as well, and I spent many vorns doing background checks and keeping criminal and enforcement records organized." Mainspring shook his helm. "Now that I say that all, it doesn't sound very impressive."

Orion took in a deep vent. "Well, if we do appoint you to the position, you'll be the second most qualified mech in the command element, after Ultra Magnus."

Mainspring looked concerned.

"Perceptor recommended you highly, and he claims we can trust you. I care more about that than your credentials," Orion said. "But we could certainly use the help of someone with your experience."

He talked to Mainspring for several more breems, and by the end of their conversation, he was convinced. He'd talked to a few other mecha who Prowl had suggested for the same position, but something about Mainspring felt more right. He seemed trustworthy, not to mention very calm and collected. That would hopefully balance out all the high-strung mecha who were going to be in the command element.

After Mainspring left, Orion checked his datapad again, though he knew there was only one more designation. One final interview to conduct.

He was more nervous about this one than any of the others, even Magnus's.

But he couldn't put it off any longer.

The door opened and Elita crossed the room sat down across from Orion, silent.

"I…" Orion started, but he still wasn't sure what to say to her.

"It feels like vorns since I talked to you," Elita said. "I almost thought you had skipped me."

"I know. I put it off…" Orion said.

Uncomfortable silence stretched out between them, and Orion was grateful when Elita ended it by speaking again.

"I know this isn't the right time for this conversation, and I know you're busy, but… I feel like you've been avoiding me, so I don't know when I'll have another chance to talk to you."

Orion looked down.

"You said you still loved me," Elita said. "And I know trying to re-form our bond didn't work, but I guess I still expected…"

Orion stared at her. Every word was like a knife to the spark because she sounded so miserable, and he would do _anything_ to stop her from hurting.

But there was nothing he could do.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Those are pretty much the only words you've said to me for the past decaorn. Over and over again. I _know_ you're sorry, Orion. I don't need you to be sorry."

"I know."

"It's not your fault," Elita said. "It's not your fault and I don't blame you and you have to stop blaming yourself."

Orion met her optics and saw the pain in them that he was afraid of. But it wasn't just pain. She reached out across the desk and put her hand on his.

"I miss you. Stop pushing me away."

Orion looked down. "I've been thinking—"

"No," Elita cut him off, with some of the old spark in her optics. "If you're going to say that I'd be better off leaving, then you're wrong. This is my cause, with or without you."

"Chromia…"

"I don't care what Chromia says or thinks," Elita said. "I don't care that we can't be bonded. I don't want to be alone, and I don't want you to be alone, and I still love you just as much as before."

Orion tried to come up with something to say to her, something that would adequately explain everything, something that would convince her that he wasn't worth it.

"Do you still love me?" Elita asked.

"Yes. Of course."

"Well then…"

"But I can't… I can't spend as much time with you as you deserve. I have so many things to do, and more than anything, I wish I could… but..."

"It's all right," Elita smiled at him. "I expected from the beginning that you weren't going to have a lot of free time. I just want to make sure you understand that I'm not ready to give up. I will _never_ be ready to give up. And I will _always_ be here for you, no matter what."

Her hand was still resting on his.

"But I don't appreciate you ignoring me just because you feel bad about what happened."

"I understand," Orion said. "I'm sorry for—"

"Orion."

"Right." She'd asked him to stop apologizing.

"I know you've probably got a lot on your processor already," Elita said. "But I had to say that. I don't need to work everything out with you right now, but when you're ready…?"

"Very well," Orion said. "Thank you."

"Now, what do you need me to do?"

He looked at her, confused.

"In the army," Elita clarified.

"Right. We were thinking of appointing you as the head of public relations and communication."

Elita nodded. "I feel like my sisters and I have already been doing that. What are you going to have them do?"

"I'm not sure," Orion said. "Do you want them in your department?"

"I want Moonracer in my department," Elita said, raising an optic ridge. "Saying that felt weird. My department…"

"What about Chromia?" Orion asked. "Do you think she would make a good army general?"

"Yes," Elita said. "But Ironhide's going to be a field commander too, right? It would be dangerous for both of them to fight in a war at the same time, because of their bond."

"True," Orion said.

"You know…" Elita said. "Having been her sister for a long time, I know one thing you wouldn't think about that she'd be very good at..."

* * *

"Thank you for coming," Orion said as the last of the gathered mecha were seated. They had many there, more than a normal gathering, and the central room in Mirage's tower was packed so tightly that mecha were pressed against each other in the back by the doors. Red Alert had had a fit about it, but he hadn't wanted to try and find another location outside the tower. "I would have spent more time considering, but we don't _have_ any time. So, I'm going to appoint heads of departments this orn, and let you all get to work right away. I, Optimus Prime, will be the chief commander of the army, and my second in command will be Ultra Magnus. He will also be our liaison with the Council.

"Prowl will be head of the tactical department and third in command. Ironhide will be in charge of training and recruitment. Red Alert will be in charge of security. Mainspring will be in charge of intelligence. Elita will be head of communications. Chromia will be in charge of material resources. Ratchet is our chief medical officer.

"These mecha will be able to choose others to work under them. If you would like a position, please speak with them about it. Now, I will hear any and all objections to these appointments."

There were objections, especially to Magnus. But in the end, nothing was changed.

"All right," Orion said when the meeting was finished. "Now we have much work to do and it is late so I suggest you all get some recharge and start early next off-cycle."

They had plenty of things to keep them busy over the next few orns.

And decaorns. And quartexes.

And who knew how long?

* * *

"So," The cheerful young news anchor said. "Orion Pax—or should I say Optimus Prime?—The world has been waiting far too long for a statement from you about exactly what happened at the Council that orn with Megatron."

Orion nodded. "Thank you, Cliffjumper. I'm grateful to be able to speak this orn, and to speak freely to everymech. Not only that, I'm grateful for the chance to apologize to the mecha of Cybertron. Megatron and I entered the Council Hall with the intention of convincing them to make him a Prime. But he showed his true self in our meeting, by threatening to destroy the Council and take over by force if they refused to meet our demands."

"So is it true you've cut all ties with him?"

"Yes," Orion said. "Or, he has cut all ties with me and ignored any attempts I have made to open communications between us."

"Even so, can you give the public any information about what has been happening in Kaon?"

"We do not know much," Orion said. "But it does appear that Megatron is attempting to raise an army and make good on his threats against the Council."

"Do you think he'll be successful?"

"It is too soon to say. But while I misjudged his character, I spent many joors talking to him and I came to know what he is capable of. When he sets his processor to something, it is difficult to stop him. I believe some orn he will wage war on Iacon."

"Are you sure?" The news anchor asked. "Isn't he just after the Council?"

"Perhaps, but I doubt the violence will stop there. It is likely he intends to 'liberate' every city as he has Kaon. He is very dangerous and his power is growing by the orn."

"Do you know if the Council is doing anything to prepare for that, or to stop him?"

Here it was. This was where Orion had to tell the world that he was going to go back on his promise to avoid violence. He looked down, trying to gather his thoughts, then looked up again, straight at the camera.

* * *

Starscream sat at the table, hunched over a datapad with a calculating expression on his faceplate.

That couldn't be good. Thundercracker hesitated, then walked over to him. "What are you watching?"

Starscream sat back so Thundercracker could look over his shoulder. The mech on the datapad screen was vaguely familiar, but he was a groundpounder, and the glyphs scrolling across the screen read "Iacon News."

"Who is that?"

Thundercracker's brother turned the datapad off and glared up at him. "That's the new Prime."

"Why are you watching groundpounder news?" What was he up to? He and Tealwing had had one of their typical loud and savage arguments, and since then he hadn't talked to anyone, which meant he was scheming something.

"Well," Starscream said. "Seeing as there's nothing left for me in Vos, I thought I might start to take notice of the rest of the world. And, fortuitously, I've already stumbled upon a great opportunity."

"Nothing left for you in Vos? What about Tealwing?" Thundercracker said. "I know you two just had another falling out, but she always lets you come back when you apologize."

Starscream shook his helm. "Did you not listen to what I said? Things are stirring in Iacon. The new Prime has just announced that he is planning to raise an army to combat the Decepticons."

"So?" Thundercracker said. "Vos will stay out of it, so it doesn't matter."

"You aren't listening to a word I'm saying," Starscream growled. "Vos is _not_ our home anymore. It has betrayed us. I need to go where mecha will recognize my true potential."

Thundercracker sighed and sat down next to his trine brother. "So this is about the Armada, not your fight with Tealwing. You know, I'm still upset about that too. But we can try again in a couple of vorns. It's not like—"

"No," Starscream said. "We're not trying again in a couple of vorns. I won't play their games anymore. I'm going to be making up my own rules from now on, and the Council's going to _pay_ for denying me my rights."

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge. "Ok, I guess. As long as you don't want us to do anything illegal, because—"

"We're leaving Vos." Starscream said. "We're going to join the Autobots."


	5. Pride

"...And you are _out of your fragging processor!"_

"You don't _have_ to come with me if you don't want to," Starscsream sneered, arms crossed and a half hurt, half angry look on his faceplate.

"No!" Tealwing said, wings quivering with rage. "Leave _Vos?_ Join some stupid _groundpounder_ army? Why? Are you _so_ upset about the Armada? Does being in charge matter _that_ much to you? So much you're willing to stoop to leading _lower life forms?_ "

"I _will_ lead the seekers!" Starscream said. "I _do_ have a plan for that."

Skywarp leaned over to Thundercracker and spoke almost too quietly to hear over Tealwing's shouting.

"He's really serious about this, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Thundercracker said, arms crossed.

"Joining a stupid groundpounder army doesn't sound like fun to me."

Thundercracker sighed. "Don't worry. It won't last long. He'll give up as soon as he realizes they won't just let him take over from them. We'll be back here in a couple of decaorns."

"…wouldn't expect _you_ to understand it even if I _did_ explain it, _femme._ And believe me, I won't miss your…" Starscream waved his hand as if searching for a word. "…stupidity. Stay here, you probably couldn't fight in an army anyway."

Oh pit.

Silence fell and Thundercracker didn't dare vent as Tealwing took one step toward him.

" _WHAT!?"_ she said.

Starscream stepped back, ducking his helm. "Well, what I _mean_ to say is…"

"No," Tealwing growled. "Just shut up!"

Starscream cowered slightly, but after staring him down for a few moments, Tealwing deflated.

Thundercracker's optics widened as her anger seemed to melt away and she stepped back again.

"You know what?" she said, lowering her wings and crossing her arms. "Forget it. I've been trying, really hard… for _vorns._ I've given up all kinds of things to stay with you, Screamer. And I'm done. I'm staying here, so it's your choice now. If you leave Vos… if you go join that stupid army, then I'm not going to chase after you, and I'm not going to forgive you, and I'm not going to bond with you. And I really mean it this time."

That wasn't good. Thundercracker looked at Starscream, trying to catch his trine brother's attention to warn him to calm down. He'd heard her say all of that before, but not with this sort of calm finality.

But Starscream didn't even look at him. "Fine then," he said. "You never understood me anyway. And I was only going to bond with you out of pity in the first place." He transformed and flew away.

Thundercracker watched him go.

" _Frag_ ," Skywarp said.

"I'll go after him—"

"No," Tealwing cut Thundercracker off. Andromeda crossed the platform, looking almost as concerned as Thundercracker felt, but Tealwing's voice was cold and hard. "Let him go."

There was a cheer off to the side, and Thundercracker shot a glare at the random little crowd of seekers who'd stopped on their way past to watch the argument.

He wished they'd go away and mind their own business. Starscream and Tealwing were a big gossip topic in this neighborhood, and he was sick of it.

"Actually," Tealwing amended. "If you two are going to leave Vos with him, then you should probably go too."

"I'm really sorry," Thundercracker said.

"Don't apologize for him," Tealwing snapped. "Just get out of here."

Skywarp transformed and flew toward the crowd of spectators, laughing as they screamed. They tried to scatter to avoid being hit, but he warped at the last moment and was suddenly up above Tealwing's platform, flying in the direction Starscream had gone.

"You'd probably better go," Andromeda said.

She probably wanted to talk to Tealwing in private.

And Thundercracker had a responsibility to try and keep his brothers out of trouble. He transformed and flew after them.

* * *

"I still don't think this is necessary," Prowl complained.

Orion hesitated at the corner of the street, checking the coordinates that Yoketron had given him, then kept going. They were close now.

"Or reasonable."

Sometimes he was almost as frustrating as Red Alert. "I think you should try it anyway. Master Yoketron is a legendary war hero. I am certain that he will have many things to teach both of us."

The street they were walking down was quiet, though they'd walked down a more crowded one for a while, and several mecha had stopped Orion to talk to him, so they weren't going to be early like he'd wanted to be.

"I _have_ looked him up, as a matter of fact," Prowl said. "And I won't argue with you there, but we don't have time to spend learning how to 'bring our processors in harmony with the universe' or whatever it is he'll want us to do. Circuit-su isn't much use anyway."

"I have to agree," Ironhide said. Orion had tried to convince him to stay behind since it wasn't very far, and it wasn't going to be dangerous, but Ironhide had insisted on tagging along. "But I'm happy you're learning _some_ way to defend yourself, Orion."

They turned left and kept going. past apartments. Orion had never been to this particular residential neighborhood, but it was kind of nice. A group of younglings were playing in front of a building further down, and wondered if he knew them. He couldn't tell from this distance.

"If you've got a gun and you know how to fire it, you'll do just as well in a war as anymech else," Prowl continued. "Maybe you have a slightly increased chance of surviving if you know other fighting skills, but becoming good enough to fight professionally—with Circuit-Su of all things—takes much more time and effort than it's worth."

"Well, try it for a decaorn," Orion said again. They passed the younglings, who didn't look familiar.

"Hmph," Prowl said. "I'll get so miserably far behind on things..."

"Maybe you could delegate," Orion said. "Haven't you picked out some mecha to fill spots in your department?"

"Not yet," Prowl said.

They were quiet for the rest of the block, then turned again at the corner. Prowl seemed troubled.

"What?" Orion asked.

The black and white mech didn't answer.

They walked in silence until they reached the coordinates, which turned out to be a large apartment building with enormous double doors in the front.

They stood looking up at the building for a few astroseconds.

"Are you sure we have the right coordinates?" Prowl asked.

Orion nodded. "The exact coordinates are somewhere in this building. Perhaps this is where Yoketron is staying."

"And he wants to train us in his living room?" Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Maybe you should comm. him."

"Come on," Orion approached the doors, which opened automatically to let him in.

The size of the doors had been a good indication of what was inside the building. Everything was larger than normal, and where Orion was generally considered a large mech, he felt very small here. It seemed this place had been built for transports or some other larger race of Cybertronians.

"The coordinates are this way," Orion pointed down the hall.

"I don't think Yoketron would be staying here," Ironhide said. "He's kind of on the small side. Maybe you _should_ comm. him."

"If this turns out to be the wrong place, then I will," Orion said. "It doesn't hurt to find out first."

"Unless it's some sort of trap," Ironhide said.

"That is highly unlikely," Prowl said. "But it _is_ going to be a waste of time, either way."

Orion led them down the hall to the exact coordinates Yoketron had sent him, and stopped in front of one of the large apartment doors. He reached up and pressed the entry request, and the three of them stood in the wide hallway, waiting. Ironhide looked ready to power up his weapons, and Prowl was practically pouting.

Of course, Yoketron had already met them both, and they had probably all made bad first impressions already, but Orion still wished that his friends would behave themselves a little better.

Finally, the door opened, revealing the smallest femme Orion had ever seen.

"Oh, good." She said. "Welcome, Prime and friends. We've been expecting you."

Orion stared at her.

She seemed to be holding back an amused smile. "Well, don't stand out in the hall all orn, come on in."

She stepped out of the way, and Orion entered, followed by Ironhide and then Prowl.

Yoketron stood off to the side of the room next to a large transport, who stepped forward and knelt, bringing him close to optic level.

"Optimus Prime," he rumbled. "It is an honor to officially meet you, though we did meet a few orns ago."

"Oh," Orion said. "You were the transport Yoketron hired."

"Yes," the mech said. "My designation is Landquake, and my bonded and I have been members of your organization for some time."

"Landquake and Petra are graciously allowing me to stay here, with them," Yoketron said. "And they have a very nice crystal garden that doubles as a Circuit-Su dojo, where they've agreed to let me train you. It is private, secure, and the only easy entrance is through this apartment."

Ironhide nodded appreciatively.

"We don't have much time to waste, especially seeing as you're almost two breems late, so Ironhide, you can stay here, while Optimus and Prowl accompany me to the garden."

"I'm going wherever he goes," Ironhide said.

"I assure you, there is not much that could endanger the Prime while he is under my protection."

Ironhide glared at Yoketron a few astroseconds, who met his gaze with a cool frown.

"Very well," Ironhide sighed.

"It is good to meet both of you," Orion said to Landquake and Petra. "Thank you for letting us come here."

"As my bondmate said, it's an honor." Petra crossed her arms. "Thank you for your service as a Prime, and for standing up to the Council before that. Someone had to."

Orion nodded, and then followed Yoketron and Prowl out the back door.

The door led to a long corridor which, in turn, opened up into a beautiful crystal garden with a large circular courtyard in the center and walls on every side that stretched up so far that the sky above was just a small, distant patch of dark blue against black. Hanging lanterns lit up the enclosure, making colorful lights and shadows on the lower walls and the ground. It was breathtaking.

"Well, this is nice," Prowl said. "But not very practical. We don't have much room in the center of the courtyard, and if we use weapons, we risk damaging the garden."

"Thank you for your input." Yoketron stopped at the center of the courtyard. The tiles beneath his pedes were crystal as well, set into the ground in an intricate pattern. "Please stand at the edge of the courtyard, at attention, until I call for you."

Prowl walked over to the edge of the courtyard and Yoketron sat down cross-legged in the center. He motioned for Orion to sit as well. "We will begin with you, Orion Pax."

Orion nodded and sat, trying to copy Yoketron's posture.

Then he realized what Yoketron had called him.

"Here," Yoketron said. "I will call you by the designation your creators gave you, peace-hunter. If that is agreeable?"

"Thank you."

Yoketron smiled. "And you may call me Master, or Master Yoketron. Outside rank does not matter here. You are my student, and therefore subordinate under these circumstances."

"Yes, Master Yoketron," Orion said, feeling awkward. As nice as it was not to be in charge, he didn't like things to be so formal.

Yoketron met Orion's gaze. "Balance," he said. "Is critical. It is one of the most basic laws of nature, that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. When you learn to control your actions perfectly, you may learn to control the reactions of things around you. So the first step, Orion, is to learn to control yourself—not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. Shutter your optics and turn off all sensors except basic pressure and audio."

Orion did as he was asked.

"This universe is vast," Yoketron's voice said. "We are nothing compared to it, and yet we are a part of it. Our part is not the part of a stone, or a piece of metal. You have something within you, Orion, that makes you different from anything that has ever been or will ever be. Your spark. Your soul. Focus on your spark…"

* * *

"Hey."

Elita looked up from the news report she was reading. "Good orn, Chromia."

"I need you to come and be diplomatic for me. Let's go."

Elita subspaced her datapad and got up from her desk. It was nice to have her own office again. She had been working on finding mecha for her department all orn, but had decided to take a break and look into how receptive the public had been to Orion's statement about the army.

As she'd expected, they were getting mixed reactions.

Her sister led the way out of the room, but Elita caught up in the hall to walk next to the dark blue femme. "Who am I being diplomatic to?" she asked.

"That noblemech," Chromia said. "He's going to give us all his credit."

"Oh," Elita said.

"It was you who told the Prime to put me in charge of resources wasn't it?"

"I _did_ mention that you always did our finances."

"That's just because Moonracer would have spent everything we had, and you would have let her," Chromia said.

"But you _are_ good at managing money."

"Hmph," Chromia said. "On a small scale, maybe. Do you _know_ how many things an army needs? Do you _know_ how expensive they are? I've spent most of this orn researching. It's insane! You wouldn't _believe_ the numbers."

They got to a set of spiral stairs that led up to the one floor Mirage had kept for himself.

Elita hesitated. "We… um… should we really be going up there?"

"Well, I asked Red Alert, and he says Mirage is up there. And I'm not going to miss this opportunity, because last time I asked, Red Alert spent about five breems ranting about how Mirage was invisible and could be anywhere."

"Well, diplomacy generally dictates that you don't barge into people's private quarters and make demands of them," Elita said. "Have you tried comming him?"

Chromia shook her helm. "I don't have his comm code… though I guess I could have asked someone for it."

"Hold on an astrosecond then," Elita commed Mirage, and they waited for him to answer.

She had almost expected him to make her wait for a breem or two, but he responded quickly.

" _Good orn, Elita One, do you need something? I have servants, you know, who are much better at granting requests than I am."_

"Chromia and I would like to talk to you about the situation here, and our organization's dependence on you."

" _Hmm…"_ Mirage said. _"Very well. I'm on my private floor, in the main room if you want to talk now. Or would you like to schedule something?"_

"We'd love to talk now. We'll be there shortly."

Elita cut the comm. and shot Chromia a pointed look.

"Ok, ok," Chromia said. "That's why I'm bringing you with me. I know my limits."

"You just have to be polite and choose your words carefully," Elita said. "Think about what you say before you say it."

"Too much effort," Chromia started up the stairs. "So, did you work things out with Orion when you talked to him?"

"Well… not exactly. He's got a lot to think about. But… we'll figure it all out eventually."

"Right," Chromia didn't sound convinced. They reached the top of the stairs and made their way to the central room on this floor. Mirage wasn't alone—he had that other noblemech with him, the famous racer.

"Ah, welcome," Mirage said. "Come, sit down."

Elita led the way to the table and sat down. Chromia sat next to her, looking annoyed about something.

"You know," Mirage said. "When you commed, I was hoping you'd be apologizing for the damage you did to my home."

Elita blinked. "What?"

"You _fired_ a gun in my tower," Mirage said. "It made scorch marks on the ceiling. Under other circumstances, I'd probably have had the whole room repainted, but you all use that room too much and it's hardly been empty long enough for someone to come _look_ at the damage. Also, you should be more careful when and where you use firearms. I was _in_ the room at the time, invisible. You could have shot me."

"Oh," Elita said. "I'm so sorry about that."

"Thank you," Mirage said. "Your apology is accepted. Now, since you brought your sister along, I assume this has something to do with my money."

"Yes," Elita said. "Since Chromia has been appointed to oversee our resources, she'd like to have a better idea of what _exactly_ our resources are."

"In short," Chromia said. "I need to know how much credit you have, and how much of it you're willing to let us use. Armies aren't cheap."

Mirage sighed, looking troubled.

"And who are you?" Chromia demanded of the other mech.

"My designation is Blurr," he said, raising an optic ridge. "I've already met you, if you'll recall. I'm part of your organization too."

"Oh," Chromia said.

"Here's the thing," Mirage said. "What happens to me if I give you all my credit? I mean, my home is already overrun with revolutionaries and commoners, so my social standing is… in shambles to say the least. My credit is the only source of power I have left. Can't the Council fund your army?"

Elita started to talk, but Chromia cut her off.

"Look," she said. "We're probably going to need to get some credit from the Council, even if you give us everything you have. In fact, if the Council's willing, we might be able to pay you back what we've borrowed from you so far. But we don't want to be dependent on them. If they pay for the army, then they own the army. I want to know how long we can last if they cut us off."

"Ah," Mirage said. "I suppose that's a good point."

"If you want to be in my department…" Chromia said. "I do need mecha."

"I've already been recruited into a different department," Mirage said. "And just because I _have_ a lot of credit doesn't mean I'm good at managing it. I've never managed my own money, and I've thrown my lot in with your organization already. How about this: I'll give you full access to my accounts, but I want to retain access as well. I need to be able to see what you're _doing_ with it all."

Chromia stared, and Elita wasn't sure what to say either.

"What?" Mirage asked. "Did you expect an argument? I decided orns ago that you can have it."

"We…" Elita said. "We can never repay you for this."

"Exactly," Mirage smirked, but she saw some sort of struggle in his optics.

She sat back and watched as Mirage got out a datapad and showed Chromia how to access his accounts.

He was pretending that he'd get something out of this, but there really wasn't anything for him to gain. This wasn't the sort of sacrifice to make lightly. His friend, Blurr, looked very concerned, but didn't object. Elita wondered if they were talking over an internal comm.

Eventually, Chromia sat back, studying the datapad thoughtfully.

"Mirage?" Elita said.

"Yes?"

"You're a good mech."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Mirage said. "But maybe I'll get there some orn."

What was that supposed to mean?

Mirage looked as if he were about to say something, but then shook his helm. "You can go now."

"What—" Chromia started.

"Thank you," Elita said, standing. "We couldn't do this without you."

Chromia looked suspicious, but followed her to the stairs.

"What was that about?" Chromia said. "That was way too easy, and he is definitely refusing to tell us something."

"I know," Elita said. "But he did ask us to leave,"

"You and your being polite," Chromia said. "Maybe Red Alert's right about him. There's no way to tell where he is when he's invisible. And we _know_ for a fact that he listens in on supposedly private meetings."

"Well, this is his home," Elita said. "And even if he wanted to be on Megatron's side, honestly I don't think Megatron would want his help. I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt anyway."

"That'll get you offlined some orn."

Elita laughed. "Right."

* * *

"Thank you, Orion, that will be all for this orn," Yoketron said. "Landquake will take you and Ironhide back to the tower. I would like you to return here at the same time next orn."

"Thank you, Master Yoketron," Optimus said, bowing.

Prowl watched him walk down the long corridor that led back to the transport's apartment, then looked at Yoketron. The old mech was just standing there, staring off into space. For a moment, Prowl wondered whether he had been completely forgotten.

He'd been standing here for almost a joor, doing absolutely nothing. If Yoketron had wanted to train them separately, he could have asked Prowl to come later. This mech had wasted an entire joor of his life. "Can we get this over with?" he demanded.

The old mech turned to regard him with a look of mild disapproval.

"Or would you like me to stand here for another joor doing nothing?"

"Doing nothing?"

"I have important things to get back to," Prowl explained. "I'm sure you wouldn't understand, but I can't be hanging around uselessly while you teach someone else."

"I see," Yoketron said. "What did you observe as I was instructing Orion?"

"What?"

"Were you paying attention?"

Prowl crossed his arms. "You mostly spouted a bunch of spiritual scrap at him, and then taught him some basic… I don't know, stances or something."

"And that is all you observed?"

"You didn't tell me to make observations," Prowl said, though he doubted there had been anything else to notice.

"That's fair," Yoketron said, scrutinizing him.

"What?"

"You know, I told you I needed someone to act as a sparring partner for the young Prime. I could have picked anyone. Why do you suppose I chose you?"

"I don't know," Prowl said. "I can suggest a few mecha who might be more suited to it. Maybe mecha who have more free time on their hands."

"I take it you object to this arrangement."

"Yes," Prowl said. "I don't have time, and I honestly don't think there's anything you can teach me that will be useful to me."

"Why not?" Yoketron said. "Do you think you know more than I do already?"

"It doesn't matter what you know, it matters what _useful_ knowledge you have," Prowl said. "And I'm sure _if_ there are things I still need to learn, I can figure them out without your help."

That seemed to give Yoketron something to think about. He was silent for almost a breem before speaking again. "I presume, given what you've said so far that you consider yourself to be of higher than average intelligence?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "As a matter of fact, I do. Most mecha can't even _begin_ to keep up with me."

And he wished everyone would just get over it. They acted like his mental capabilities were some sort of offense.

"Excellent," Yoketron said. "Then perhaps we can make an agreement. I know Optimus expects you to train with me, because that is what I requested. However, if you can figure out the answer to one question, then I will allow you to turn down my offer, and I will pick someone else to train alongside the Prime."

Prowl frowned. There was a bit of a smile on the old mech's lip plates. He thought he could win in a battle of wits?

He was sorely mistaken.

"What if I can't answer the question?" Prowl asked.

"The deal is this: If you can answer the question correctly, then you can choose whether to stay or leave. There is no time limit on answering, but until you _do_ answer correctly, you must agree to follow my instructions and allow me to train you."

"I am not easily fooled," Prowl said. "I won't agree to this unless you tell me what the question is beforehand."

"I have already asked the question," Yoketron said "Why did I choose you?"

Prowl shook his helm. "That's subjective. You could claim any random reason or change the answer on me."

"You'll have to trust that I won't," Yoketron said. "There is a reason I chose you. In fact, I _want_ you to understand it. If I tell you what it is I doubt you will listen, but if you are as intelligent as you say you are then you should be able to figure it out for yourself."

Prowl looked down, thinking. Yoketron was trying to trick him somehow—he was certain of it.

"Well?" Yoketron said. "Will you accept the deal?"

Prowl took in a deep vent and let it out. This mech would underestimate him—everyone always underestimated him. "Fine. It's a deal."

So long as the other mech played fair, Prowl could have this figured out in just a few breems. And then he could leave.

"Good," Yoketron said. "Do you have an answer already?"

"Not yet," Prowl said, turning his attention to the question. "Let's see… Supposedly you're going to be teaching me Circuit-Su, but I already have training in self-defense. Furthermore, I'm not going to be a field commander, so it's unlikely that I'll need to fight anyone." He watched Yoketron's faceplate, but the older mech wore a calm mask that gave nothing away.

"Maybe you think I'm not in tune with the universe, or something, and you feel the need to remedy that."

Yoketron raised an optic ridge.

"Is that the answer?" Prowl asked.

"No. There are techniques that can bring a Cybertronian spark into harmony with the universe, but I'm afraid those take many vorns to learn, and neither of us have that time."

"I meant… metaphorically. As in, you want me to be more spiritual. I don't know if you know this, but I don't even believe in Primus. Sorry if that offends you."

"I did not know that," Yoketron said. "And no, while I do feel you could benefit from developing your spiritual side, that is not why I chose you."

"Then why?"

"If I answer for you, then you lose your chance to leave," Yoketron said. "If you are ready to give up for the orn, perhaps we can begin training."

"No," Prowl said. "Let me think. If you don't think I need to learn to fight, or to be more spiritual, then what exactly do you expect to be teaching me?"

"May I clarify something?" Yoketron asked.

"Clarify what?"

"I _do_ think you would benefit from my instruction," Yoketron said. "I do think you need to learn better techniques to defend yourself, and as I said before, gaining spiritual knowledge and strength would certainly help you. But the question wasn't about me or my teaching. There are a multitude of mecha who could benefit by learning from me."

Prowl frowned, feeling uncomfortable.

"Why did I choose _you_ specifically?"

There could be a lot of reasons for that. "Well, you obviously think I need to learn something." Prowl said. Yoketron wanted him to admit his faults, was that it? It wasn't as if he _didn't_ know them, but there was no need to…

Maybe that was the test. Yoketron thought he wouldn't be willing to tell the truth about himself.

"All right…" he said. "Is it because… because I'm so prideful and self-centered and… and arrogant? Do you think you can reform me?"

Yoketron was silent.

"Because you can't. I've been like this my whole life."

The other mech looked at him expectantly.

"I see no reason to waste time begging for the approval of others," Prowl said. "I am self-centered and rude and I'm not apologetic about it. That's why you want me here, though, isn't it? So you can teach me manners? Admit it—I have you beaten. You thought I wouldn't say it but I did and now you have to let me leave."

"You are incorrect," Yoketron said "You gave up your career and your safety to join Autobot, and have been doing your best to help them despite the fact that it doesn't benefit you personally. Those are not the actions of a self-centered mech."

Silence fell. Prowl wasn't sure what to say, but he certainly hadn't expected Yoketron to…

"Furthermore," Yoketron said matter-of-factly, "Your arrogance is largely fake, and I do not believe your rudeness stems purely from inconsideration."

"What?" Prowl demanded. "That's ridiculous…" This mech had no idea what he was talking about.

"I won't claim that you aren't prideful," Yoketron said. "But pride is a brittle shield, and unless you lower that shield and try to think clearly about yourself, then you will simply have to hold up your side of the deal and allow me to teach you."

"You don't know anything about me," Prowl glared at him. "Whatever reason you think you have for wanting to teaching me, it's wrong."

Yoketron pinned Prowl for a moment with his penetrating gaze, and then shook his helm. "We made an agreement. Are you ready to give in for the orn, or would you like to keep trying to answer my question?"

There was something frustrating and unsettling about this whole situation. It reminded him of the time he'd played a board game against Soundwave. But in this case, he wasn't sure he understood the rules of the game. He hated not knowing the rules.

"Why don't you just tell me? I think at this point, I'll listen." Prowl was tired of this.

"No," Yoketron said. "Why are you angry, Prowl?"

"What?"

"Are you angry?"

"Well… yes," Prowl deflated a little. "I think…"

"Why?" Yoketron said. "Because I said you are not rude, arrogant, or self-centered? Why would my complimenting you make you angry?"

That… was actually a valid question. Prowl was undeniably angry about it. The idea that this mech would deny his faults was somehow infuriating.

"I suppose… I am proud of my faults…" Prowl said. "Though that seems absurd."

Yoketron nodded.

"And… it's what everyone else says about me. And it was difficult to admit those things—I'm sure you can imagine how frustrating it is to admit something like that only to have it contradicted."

"That is true," Yoketron said with a sigh. "And I am sorry for being so blunt. But I do not believe you have any of those negative characteristics."

"Then why does everyone hate me?" Prowl said it before he could stop himself. He looked away, feeling sick. He wished he could take the words back. That had sounded like something a whining sparkling would say.

"Prowl…"

The anger came back, but this time it hurt. "And don't try to tell me that mecha don't hate me. You might have been following Orion around, but you don't have doorwings, and you can't hear what everyone says about me when they think I'm not listening."

Yoketron was silent, but that only made it worse.

"It was easier than you made it sound, leaving Praxus. There really wasn't much to leave behind." He hadn't had any friends, and his co-workers had all actively disliked him. "Everywhere I go, I'm an outsider. I'm different. You have no idea what that's like."

It was perfectly still in the crystal garden. The sound of Prowl's own engine rumbled in his audios.

"And now I have to lead a department. Now it _matters_ if I get along with Ironhide and Red Alert and the others. Because if they don't trust me…"

If they didn't trust him, then they wouldn't listen to him. He wouldn't be able to do his job. He couldn't direct armies full of mecha who hated him. He couldn't run a department of tacticians who hated him. He couldn't do it any more than he could figure out this stupid riddle, because he was good at board games and mathematics, but he wasn't good with mecha.

"You win," he said. "I give up. I don't want to play this game anymore. I can't figure it out."

The silence stretched on until Prowl couldn't take it any longer. He looked up to meet Yoketron's optics.

"You are a rare kind of genius," Yoketron said. "But that doesn't mean you can't learn skills that don't come naturally to you."

"What if I can't?" Prowl said.

Silence again.

"I… I'm afraid. I'm terrified that I'm not good enough for what I have to do."

"What is it that you have to do?"

"I have to win this war," Prowl said. "There's no way we'll have an advantage in numbers over the Decepticons. And our troops won't be better trained than theirs. So the advantage has to come from me—not just my ability to come up with a plan that will work, but my ability to convince everyone else to listen to me."

"Yes," Yoketron said. "That is true."

"And I… I can't do it. And I know I can't, but there's no one who can take my place."

"Hmm…" Yoketron said.

"But you can't teach me to be likable," Prowl said. "Can you?"

"You don't need to be likable," Yoketron said. "But mecha will trust you if you are consistent, balanced, and in control of your emotions. And those are all things I _can_ teach."

Prowl stared at him.

"Good job," Yoketron said. "I'm surprised. You figured it out on the first orn. You can quit now, if you would like."

"What?"

"You just told me why I chose you, Prowl. You win."

Prowl shook his helm as the pieces clicked together in his processor. "I knew you had some sort of trick," he said. "But… no, of course I can't quit _now_. Do you really think… that you can teach me?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "I am certain that I can. Would you like a few breems to collect yourself before we begin?"

"No, I'm all right," Prowl said, though he felt more than a little unsteady. Primus, what had he just…? He stared at the Circuit-Su master, who shot him a brief, knowing smile, and gestured toward the center of the courtyard.


	6. A Heavy Calling

Ultra Magnus did not like being a spy.

It didn't help that it was easy—that he didn't have to do anything besides watch and listen.

In fact, in some ways that made it worse, especially considering the specifics.

He climbed the familiar Council steps. The members of the Elite Guard on either side of the doors saluted him and he nodded as he passed them, feeling out of place.

The halls were filled with their usual quiet chatter as politicians talked, made deals, and schemed.

As a member of the Elite Guard, you were almost invisible. You overheard their private conversations, the words they muttered under their breath about each other, the agreements they made off the record.

He had watched the corruption spread to consume the entire Council, and it still surprised him, every time.

These mecha weren't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to follow the rules—the rules they, themselves, had put into place.

He was supposed to send someone in to alert them that he had arrived, but since he was still technically in the Elite Guard, he could do that himself. The guards standing off to either side opened the doors for him, and Ultra Magnus entered the Council Hall and walked to the center of the floor. They were already discussing the things that he had been sent to say to them and they continued for nearly a breem without acknowledging him.

Eventually, Halogen raised his hand for silence, and the senator who'd been speaking finished and sat down with a deferential nod toward the Grand Councilmech.

"Ah, Ultra Magnus," he said. "We have been expecting you, and it is good to know you have arrived. You may wait outside. In half a joor we will give you our instructions, and you may return to the noblemech's tower."

"I have been sent to speak with you in behalf of the Autobots," Ultra Magnus said.

"And we already know everything Orion sent you to ask us," Halogen said. "So there's no need for your presence in this meeting."

"I respectfully request to remain."

"Why?" Halogen asked.

He was frustrated. He hated lying, and he wanted to at _least_ be able to honestly tell the Prime that he had stood before the Council and relayed his requests. But he wasn't sure how to convince Halogen that was important.

"Ultra Magnus, for the security of the Council, I'll have to ask you to leave the room. I'm not certain we can speak openly around you, as I'm sure you'd love to return to the Prime and tell him exactly what we said."

"You know I would never betray the Council," Ultra Magnus said.

"Do not pretend you are loyal."

"I never pretend," Ultra Magnus said, fighting to remain calm and to control his anger. The longer he spent with the Autobots, the more convinced he was of the Council's guilt.

"You agreed to this assignment," the Grand Councilmech said.

"You implanted a device in my helm that forces me to record everything I see and hear and then relays it back to you," Ultra Magnus said through gritted denta. "I did not agree to that."

It had been part of a quick decision, and in order to send him with the Prime just half a joor after choosing him for the job, they'd had to rush the surgery. Ultra Magnus could still feel the device—a mild, but uncomfortable pressure behind his left optic. It was a constant reminder of who he worked for. His own optics didn't even belong to him anymore.

"You told us you were concerned about your role, so we made it easier for you," Halogen said. "Now leave. You can file your complaints once your mission is complete."

Complete? Did they not expect him to be with the Autobots for the entire war? Or was Halogen simply telling him that he didn't get to complain ever?

Probably the latter.

He turned and walked toward the door. He would keep following orders. He'd made an oath, and he wasn't going to break it. But he didn't have to be happy about it.

* * *

"I miss the orns when we were just a little rebel group," Ironhide said.

Orion nodded, watching out of Landquake's windows as they drove past the tall buildings of Iacon Central. Yoketron had sent the transport to pick them up. Orion would rather have walked, but he understood the need to avoid drawing attention to himself.

"You mean back when you were all living out of a professor's house?" Prowl said. "Causing riots and trying to avoid getting arrested?"

"Yeah," Ironhide said. "Back before we had to try and run an army. We still don't have anywhere to _keep_ an army."

"Then it's a good thing we don't really _have_ one yet." Prowl said. "Aren't we still in the hundreds in recruitment?"

"We're all doing the best we can," Orion said. "And yes, it _is_ a good thing that we don't have very many soldiers yet."

"Yeah, for now," Ironhide said. "But if no one volunteers, then we're going to have to find some other way of getting them to—"

"I will not force mecha to fight," Orion cut him off. "I will _never_ force anyone to fight."

He would not budge on that point. He was certain that enough mecha would enlist eventually.

Ironhide frowned at him, but then shrugged. "Either way, I miss the time before we had to play politics. And it's awkward to have Magnus in charge of me again."

"I'm sorry about that," Orion said. "I think he's a good mech, though."

"Oh, I know he is. Self-righteous as pit, but honorable to a fault."

Orion nodded.

Landquake pulled up in front of his apartment building and opened his doors to let them out. Ironhide exited first, and Orion and Prowl followed, then Landquake transformed and led the way inside.

Yoketron was sitting at the too-tall table, talking with Landquake's bonded, but he turned around when they entered.

"Ah, there you are. Thank you for coming," he got down off of the enormous chair he'd been sitting in. "Orion, this time I would like to speak with you in the garden, alone. Also, from now on, Prowl, I would like you to come first. I will meet with you for a joor, and then Orion will join us for another half a joor. After that, I will train Orion privately."

"But…" Prowl said. "Because Orion is the one who needs more training—at least when it comes to fighting—wouldn't it make more sense for you to train him first? Then when we train together, he could practice what he'd just learned."

"There are factors contributing to this schedule that I cannot share with you," Yoketron said. "And I cannot always be certain how long I will need to spend with Orion in each session."

Prowl nodded. "Very well, Master Yoketron."

Somewhat surprised by Prowl's submissive tone, Orion turned to look at him. Ironhide was staring as well.

"What?" Prowl snapped, doorwings flicking in irritation or discomfort.

"I would like you two to come up with a time that works best for meeting with me," Yoketron said. "And let me know by the end of the orn. Are you ready, Orion?"

"Yes," Orion said, though something in Yoketron's expression worried him.

They walked out to the crystal garden, and Yoketron led the way to the center of the courtyard, and sat, then gestured for Orion to do the same.

Once they were both sitting, Yoketron took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. "Before I teach you anything else, there are things you must know about receiving the Matrix of Leadership."

Orion nodded. He'd been wondering when they were going to get to this.

"There are many mysteries and rumors surrounding the process. However, the vast majority of the rumors are untrue, and the requirements for being a Prime are not quite what the world believes. One does not need to accomplish any notable feat or be naturally talented. In fact, there are many, _many_ mecha worthy of bearing the Matrix. Primus chooses an honest spark with good intentions, and the Matrix bestows knowledge and power on the mech or femme who has been appointed."

Orion nodded.

"You, Orion, need never feel as if you are unworthy. However, if you _do_ feel unworthy, you can be comforted to know that you are not alone. I have made the acquaintance of many Primes, and most of the greatest and noblest felt unworthy. Understood?"

"Yes," Orion said. "Thank you, Master Yoketron."

"You are welcome. Now, in order to become a Prime, you must first be appointed to the position and accept that appointment. Because Councilmech Halogen has the key to Vector Sigma, he was able to appoint you as a Prime. In the past, the current Prime has often chosen and appointed his or her successor."

"So Halogen could have appointed anyone?" Orion said. "Even someone who wasn't worthy?"

"In a sense," Yoketron said.

"So I might not be worthy."

"Orion Pax," Yoketron said. "Councilor Halogen is a Quintesson, who presides over a den of scraplets. They claim the reason they have not appointed a Prime for the past thirty vorns is because the Matrix of Leadership is lost. But in truth, they do not want a servant of Primus in power. When Alpha Trion stood and demanded that they appoint you as a Prime, they would have refused. But they all felt Primus's will upon them that orn, and they could not deny you your right. By definition, Optimus Prime, you are more worthy than any before you."

Orion looked down.

"And before you ask, it would serve no purpose to appoint someone who is unworthy, as only worthy mecha may bear the Matrix safely."

"Safely?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "After you have accepted your appointment, there is a period of training. I'll explain what the training entails in a few breems. Once you've finished your training, you can receive the Matrix of Leadership. It is an object of power which strengthens you in numerous ways, enhancing physical and mental capabilities, providing protection from emotional trauma, heightening senses, stabilizing the spark, and even guiding or warning of the future."

"Okay…" Orion said. What exactly did that mean? Did it… talk to you? That sounded a little unsettling.

"The Matrix, as far as I have been told, is a wonderful and helpful gift. The information contained in it, on the other hand—the information that is also stored in Vector Sigma—is very dangerous. In fact, it is the ordeal of receiving that information that makes training and preparation necessary."

Orion looked down. "What is… dangerous about it? It's just like a library about the lives of the Primes, isn't it?"

"The information does not simply download into your processor. Some of it downloads to your core. It can change you. If you are not previously prepared, it may erase you. All of your memories, all of your personality, gone. Unworthy mecha who attempt to receive the Matrix become, in essence, just another Vector Sigma. A computer, in which is contained all the knowledge of the Primes. In a worst case scenario, your spark could be extinguished, or at least go dormant, putting you in permanent stasis."

Oh, Primus.

"Now, don't mistake me, that won't happen to you. However, even _with_ much training and preparation, Primes typically have a changed personality after receiving the Matrix.

Orion stared at him. He would have a different personality? "What if… you mean I won't be myself afterward?"

"No. You _will_ be you. But you will be a different you. The more you are prepared, the less you will lose. If you received the Matrix this orn, I am certain you would be very much changed."

Orion looked down.

"A little frightening, isn't it?"

"Not a little."

"It will be all right. My job is to make sure you are ready when the time comes, and I will do everything I can to help you prepare."

"But how _do_ you prepare for something like that?"

"Patience," Yoketron said. "I will explain. But first, there is one more thing you need to know. As soon as you receive the knowledge of the Primes, you will lose all of your memories from before you were appointed."

"What?"

"They will be overwritten."

"But… I can't…"

Master Yoketron looked at him calmly.

What had he gotten himself into?

He took a deep vent, shuttering his optics. "I apologize. This is a lot to take in."

"You don't need to lose everything from those memories," Yoketron said. "There are ways to upload those memories to a storage unit and download them again after the ordeal, though the emotions associated with them will be lost. I am sorry."

Orion vented a sigh. "All right."

"It is natural to be uncomfortable with this," Yoketron said.

"I…" Orion trailed off.

"Go on,"

"I didn't ask for any of this. And I know sometimes we have to accept responsibility we didn't ask for..."

Yoketron nodded.

"If I have to do it, I have to do it," Orion said. "And I will, but…" He un-shuttered his optics and looked up at the tiny patch of sky above. Lose all his memories? Possibly be erased?

Yoketron was silent, and Orion was grateful for the chance to think.

After a few breems, he realized he was being childish. The fate of the world was at stake. He shook his helm as shame filled his spark. "I apologize. It's an honor to be a Prime and I shouldn't complain."

" _No_ ," Yoketron said, suddenly stern. "Do not feel guilty because you are upset." His voice softened. "It's all right that you don't want to do this. If I were you, I wouldn't want to do it either. Let yourself be unhappy about this, but keep moving forward. Things will eventually get easier. Not easy, but easier."

Orion nodded. "Thank you."

They sat in silence for another few breems and then Orion met his instructor's optics.

"You still haven't told me about the preparation for receiving the Matrix."

"Correct," Yoketron said. "Training you in Circuit-Su does have a purpose in that regard. The Matrix will enhance skills and talents that you have developed, _especially_ skills and talents that you develop after being appointed. If I can teach you the basics of Circuit-Su before you receive the Matrix, it will benefit you greatly later on. But there is another curriculum, developed by the Original Thirteen Primes, that specifically prepares the processor and the spark for receiving the Matrix."

Orion nodded expectantly.

"It is a series of challenges—virtual challenges—that will test the integrity of your spark, and strengthen your processor's ability to function under stress. The challenges are called the Primal Trials."

Orion frowned. "Are they… like virtual games of some sort?"

"No," Master Yoketron said, and Orion could hear some carefully guarded emotion in his voice. Perhaps… sympathy?. "More like viruses."

"Oh…" Silence fell. Yoketron watched him carefully.

He should probably say something, but he had no idea how to react to that.

"Becoming a Prime isn't as appealing as history makes it look," Yoketron said. "And since I've thoroughly terrified you already, I might as well tell you that normally, the progression from trial to trial is at whatever pace the Prime is comfortable with. But you have no such luxury. Alpha Trion has only given me a quarter of a vorn to prepare you."

Dread sank deep into Orion's spark. "How long does it usually take?"

"It depends on the Prime," Yoketron said. "Some not too long, others quite a while."

He didn't want to ask, but… he had to know. "What's the average?"

"About a vorn and a half."

Six times as long as Orion had been given.

"I know," Yoketron said. "It's anything but ideal. Please forgive me for refusing to train you earlier, when Alpha Trion asked me to."

"That was…"

"Two or three vorns ago, yes," Yoketron said. "In my defense, you were not ready to begin training then, and I did not expect that Cybertron would need you so soon. But I should have at least stayed instead of running off to hide in Simfur. There are ways in which I could have begun to prepare you."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, trying to cool systems that his nervousness was overheating. "It's all right."

"We will do the best that we can," Yoketron said. "It _is_ possible to complete the trials in a quarter of a vorn."

"Do you want me to start them now?"

"No, Primus, no," Yoketron said. "Next orn at the earliest. But I wanted you to know."

"Is there anything else?"

"Any other bad news, you mean?" Yoketron asked. "No, I believe that's the worst of it."

Orion nodded, trying to integrate it all. "So I'll forget everything from before I was appointed as a Prime. And receiving the Matrix will change my personality. And I have to… download viruses that will help me prepare for it."

Yoketron nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

He had said Orion could upload the memories and then re-download them, but that the feelings wouldn't stay.

He would forget what it felt like to be bonded to Elita. He would forget how much he'd loved the sparklings he bought energon treats for. He would forget the simple pleasure of being an archivist before all of this started.

Maybe that would make things easier in a way…

No.

He didn't want to lose those feelings. Those feelings were why he was willing to fight in the first place.

"Are you ready to begin training for the orn?" Yoketron asked at length. "It might not be easy for you to meditate at the moment, but attempting it should calm you down a little."

Orion nodded.

"Then let us begin."

* * *

Elita cut the comm. with a sigh.

"They said no?" Moonracer guessed.

"Yes," Elita said. "Though the femme I talked to was a little nicer about it. Maybe we can work with them…"

"Or you could try a station outside the sector."

"Too far away. The closer it is to us, the better."

"We should build our own groundbridge station," Moonracer said.

Elita shook her helm. "We can look into that. Will you find out what we have to do to legally own and operate a groundbridge?"

"Seriously?"

"It was your idea. Just look the permits up."

"You could just hunt down whoever made that one in Perceptor's basement."

"Really?" Elita snapped. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think one of those mechs is mentally unstable, and the other one was reprogrammed by the Council."

"Oh," Moonracer said. "I forgot about that."

"Besides, we have to do things legally now that the Council isn't trying to arrest us for existing." She shuttered her optics, regretting her impatience. "I'm sorry, it's been a long orn. It's not even halfway over yet, and it's already been long."

"Tell me about it," Moonracer said, smiling ruefully. "I'll go look up how many forms you have to fill out to make a groundbridge station, okay? And you should take a break for five breems."

"That's always your answer to everything," Elita said. "Take a break."

"Duh," Moonracer said, and walked away.

"Thank you," Elita called after her, then pulled out her datapad and looked at her list of things she still needed to get done before the ornly meeting. Orion should be back by then, but Prowl had come back later the orn before, and so he might be gone this orn too. She'd have to take notes, or ask someone to take notes for him, because she doubted anyone higher in the chain of command would think about that.

She was probably going to take notes anyway, so she might as well put a little extra effort into that so she could pass them on to Prowl and anyone else who missed the meeting.

And maybe she _should_ take a bit of a break. She shuttered her optics and sat back in her chair, but then started feeling sad about Orion again, and changed her mind.

If her only options were working or feeling sorry for herself, then she would rather get back to work.

Everything was fine. Orion still loved her, and things would work out. Somehow.

Right.

She double-checked her list and looked up the comm. code of another company she needed to get in touch with.

She got through almost everything before the meeting, and was feeling fairly pleased with herself, even though she'd probably have even _more_ to do afterward. She left her subordinates with a few tasks she thought they'd be capable of completing, and walked out of her department. She'd decided to abandon her office so she could be around the mecha she was working with on one of the lower floors of Mirage's tower. She took the stairs up to the main floor and entered the meeting room. She'd intended to look for the scorch mark Mirage had complained about, but she forgot all about that when she saw Orion and Ironhide were already sitting at the meeting table, talking quietly.

They looked up and she caught Orion's gaze and smiled.

He started to smile back, but then suddenly his expression turned sorrowful and he looked away from her.

Her spark sank, and she sat down at the table without saying a word.

"So," Ironhide said. "We have somewhere to keep our mecha yet?"

"No," Elita said. "We need to find a groundbridge station that's willing to service us first, and then I'll look for somewhere nearby. We'll want to be able to deploy soldiers quickly."

"Right," Ironhide said. "I can't imagine that's going well."

"There are only two groundbridge stations in the sector," Elita said. "And I've talked to both of them."

The door opened and Mainspring came in, followed by Chromia, who went and sat next to Ironhide.

He grinned at her, and she raised an optic ridge. "What?"

"Nothing. Just happy to see you. Hey, you should come with me sometime to meet Landquake and Petra, the mecha Master Yoketron's staying with. I bet you'd like them."

Chromia glanced toward Elita, who looked away quickly.

"If I wasn't so busy trying to make sure we don't go bankrupt, I might take you up on that. But just because you're friends with someone doesn't mean _I'm_ going to like them, 'Hide, you should know that by now."

Ultra Magnus came in next, followed by Red Alert, and then finally Ratchet, who was a few breems late.

"Is Prowl not here again?" Red Alert asked, narrowing his optics. "Are we sure we know where he is?"

"We know exactly where he is," Ironhide deadpanned.

"Is someone taking notes for him?" Mainspring asked.

Well then. Elita had underestimated him. "I can," she volunteered, and Mainspring nodded, smiling kindly.

He was far too nice to be in charge of intelligence.

But then again, Orion was too nice to be an army general, and on the other end of the spectrum, she'd never met a medic who was as cranky as Ratchet.

Elita looked to Orion. It was time to start the meeting, but he seemed lost in thought. Was something wrong? If they'd still been bonded, she would have been able to feel whether he was upset about something.

"If Prowl will not be joining us, then we should open the meeting," Ultra Magnus said.

"Yes, thank you" Orion looked up. "First item of business… how is recruitment going?"

"Good enough," Chromia said. "At least, it hasn't stopped. We've got nearly a hundred just this orn, bringing us up almost to a thousand recruits."

Elita wrote that down in her notes.

"That won't be enough," Ultra Magnus said. "The Council thinks it ought to be moving faster, and I concur with them."

"Well, there isn't too much we can do about that," Orion said. "Forcing mecha to enlist is not a line I am willing to cross."

"What if we have to?" Chromia asked. "We don't have much time. The Decepticons have tens of thousands already."

"Then we'll think of some other way," Orion snapped.

Chromia frowned, and Elita's optics widened slightly. Something was definitely wrong.

"My apologies," Orion said.

"No, _my_ apologies," Chromia replied proudly. "Prime, Sir."

He didn't quite flinch, but his faceplate twitched slightly. "How is our financial situation looking?"

"It's… all right," Chromia said. "Mirage has pledged his entire fortune, which could supply an army for a while, but there's not enough income to _keep_ supplying an army."

"What?" Red Alert said. "His _entire_ fortune?"

"Yeah," Chromia said. "It's kind of suspicious, but I guess we can't complain about it too much . In any case, we're still going to need to ask the Council for some help."

"They are willing to fund you to whatever extent you need," Ultra Magnus said. "On certain conditions."

"See, that's the catch," Chromia said. "The harder we lean on the Council, the more control they'll have over us."

"Are there any concerns you have to bring up?" Orion asked.

Chromia shook her helm. "Just the fact that we need storage space, and barracks. But Elita's working on that."

"I'm stuck on securing us a groundbridge to use for deploying troops," Elita said, saving a copy of her notes, and pulling up the list of things she'd wanted to talk about in the meeting. "Neither of the stations in Iacon Central want to help us, and I'm sure I've heard somewhere it takes a very long time to get a license to run a station…"

"The Council could probably help you there," Ultra Magnus said stiffly.

Elita met his optics, and he looked surprised for a moment that she was holding his gaze. Then he glared at her and she turned her attention back to Orion.

"If it becomes necessary to ask the Council for help getting a permit, or negotiating with the groundbridge stations, then we will ask them," Orion said.

"I'm not comfortable asking the Council for help," Elita said. "I'll think of something."

He nodded but wouldn't look at her. Something was definitely, definitely wrong.

"Is there anything else you have to report?"

Elita read things off of her list, and they discussed them.

When she was finished, Orion turned the time over to Ironhide, who sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Well, I don't have anyone to train yet, because we aren't asking anyone to show up yet, but I know I'm not going to be able to train them all alone. We're going to need help from the Elite guard. That's something we _have_ to ask the Council for."

That was true.

"Also," Ironhide said. "I had a thought earlier this orn. All of you need training in self-defense. Call me Red Alert, but I don't feel comfortable knowing most of you wouldn't even be able to defend yourselves from an assassin."

"Excuse me?" Red Alert said.

"I'm not going to be fighting anyone," Ratchet said. "And I doubt someone would try to assassinate a medic."

"I agree with Ironhide," Ultra Magnus said. "You should all learn the basics at least."

"Hmph," Ratchet said.

Elita made a note of it, and then focused on Orion while everyone else argued about learning to fight. He still seemed distracted.

After Ironhide finished, Mainspring talked, then Red Alert, then finally Ratchet, who had nothing to say other than to admit that he hadn't talked to any local hospitals about recruiting medics yet.

Elita might have to do that for him.

* * *

After the meeting, Elita wanted to go talk to Orion, but she knew he was busy, so she waited until the very end of the orn.

He was reading something on a datapad when she entered his office, so she sat across from him and waited patiently for him to finish. At length, he set the datapad down and looked up at her.

"Hello."

"Do you have time to talk a little?" She tried to sound cheerful.

Orion looked down at the desk. "I'm done for the orn, I think."

Silence fell. "Are you all right?"

"No."

"Silly question. Sorry. But you're doing wonderfully, even if you don't think so. You amaze me all the time."

Orion sighed.

"What's bothering you?" Elita could see he was hurting, still, and she wished more than anything that she could help somehow.

He stared at the desk for more than a breem. She tried to figure out what he was thinking by watching his expression, but just ended up lost in his deep blue optics.

He broke the spell eventually by speaking. "I'm just tired. It's been a long orn."

So he wasn't going to tell her what was wrong. She crossed her arms. "I think you're lying to me. I don't need a bond to know something's wrong, Orion."

He shook his helm. "Don't worry. I truly am—or will be—all right. I am simply worried that I can't... live up to my calling. I don't feel like I'll ever really be ready for it."

Elita nodded. "Okay. But if there's something on your processor, something really bothering you… tell me, please?"

Orion nodded.

"Thank you. If you don't want to talk about whatever's wrong, then maybe we could talk about something else. It's been a while since I've had a good conversation with you."

He shuttered his optics.

"Orion?"

"I'm tired," he got up. "I'll talk to you next orn. I promise."

He left her sitting in his office.

* * *

Note: I think I'm going to switch to updating on Fridays, so don't freak out if there's no update next Tuesday.


	7. Headway

Ironhide un-shuttered his optics and checked his internal timepiece. With a moan, he got to his pedes and stretched, wincing at how stiff his joints were.

Then he stood in the hallway for a few breems. Orion was most likely still recharging, so Ironhide headed to the central area by the elevators, where they'd set up tables and an energon dispenser. The Prime would be all right for a few breems while he grabbed some energon for them.

He got three cubes and then headed to his own room. He hit the button to open the door, and then winced as it swished open. Fortunately the noise didn't seem to wake Chromia, who was stretched out on their berth. He set one cube of energon for her on the table. He wanted to wake her up so he could talk to her, but he figured he should probably let her rest, so he sighed and turned to leave again.

"Hey."

So much for not waking her up. "Hey," Ironhide turned around and watched her stretch, then sit up.

"Do you _really_ have to sit outside Orion's door _every_ off-cycle?" She glared at him, swinging her legs over the edge of the berth.

Ironhide smiled. "I'm sorry. You know I'd rather recharge in here, but…"

"You really think someone's going to try and assassinate him?"

"You never know," Ironhide said as Chromia got up off the berth. She grabbed the cube of energon from the table and walked past him out into the hallway. He followed.

"Well, with how heavily you recharge, an assassin could probably get right past you."

"Whatever," Ironhide said. "Part of it's to keep Orion from wandering off on his own. I don't think he understands that he can't just get up in the middle of the off-cycle and go for a walk anymore."

"He does that?"

"Yeah," Ironhide said. They went back to the hallway outside of Orion's room and stood.

Chromia leaned against the wall and sipped the energon Ironhide had brought her.

Ironhide got out a datapad.

"Check if anyone wants to join the army since last off-cycle," Chromia said. "It's started to taper off, which is going to be a huge problem."

Ironhide logged into the datapad and checked his messages for an update.

"What do we do if not enough mecha volunteer?" Chromia said.

Ironhide stared at the datapad, shocked.

"I mean, I know Orion's being stubborn about not forcing anyone, but even if we _wanted_ to force mecha to enlist… what?" She shot him a sharp glance.

"Look at this," He handed her the datapad, and she took it in her free hand, frowning.

"Pit," Her optics narrowed. "That can't be right… a _thousand_ applicants, in the past joor?"

"So much for tapering off," Ironhide said. "Maybe mecha are finally coming to their senses?"

"Huh," Chromia drank some more of her energon and scowled. "No, I don't trust this."

"Of course you don't," Ironhide said.

"Let me try and figure out what's going on before we get all excited. Maybe something happened…" She connected the datapad to the public databases and checked the news, scrolling through reports and stories almost faster than Ironhide could read.

He got out his cube of energon and drank it while she used his datapad.

"Aha," she said. "That's… interesting…"

Orion's door opened, and he stepped out into the hall. "Good on-cycle," he said. He looked like he hadn't recharged very well. He looked more and more exhausted every orn.

"Here," Ironhide offered Orion the cube of energon he'd gotten from the dispenser.

"We should talk about this," Chromia tapped the datapad. "Do you two have anything to do right away?"

Ironhide looked to Orion, who shook his helm. "What is it?"

"Good news, I think," Chromia said. "A bunch of factories closed late last orn, and apparently the factory workers decided to all apply to join the Autobots, so now we have… more than two thousand soldiers."

Orion blinked, faceplate brightening for a moment. Then he looked solemn again. "That is good news," he said, and waved away the energon Ironhide was holding out to him. Really?

"It's fantastic news," Chromia said. "Except we really need somewhere to keep them all. I know Elita's been working on that, but it's more urgent now."

Ironhide shoved the energon at Orion. "You look half offline," he said. "If you don't drink this, I'll march you down to Ratchet's office."

Orion sighed and took the energon. "I am fine and you don't need to threaten me. I simply didn't recharge very well. I have some things to do in my office—you two can go."

"Okay," Ironhide said.

They watched Orion leave.

"Elita says she can talk to us now," Chromia said. "Come on."

Ironhide frowned at the back of Orion's helm, then turned to follow Chromia the other way. That mech needed some time off or something _._

But they all had too much to do. Ironhide was going to be busy this orn, because he'd talked some of his friends from the Elite guard into coming to help him start training the other mecha in the command element to fight.

Elita was already waiting outside Chromia's office when they came around the corner.

"Hello," she said brightly.

Chromia opened the door and they filed in. It was one of the smallest rooms in the building, and there was barely room for the three of them to sit.

"So, what is this about?" Elita asked.

Chromia handed her Ironhide's datapad and explained the situation.

"Wow," Elita said. "That's… good. Really fortunate, actually… and it looks like the number's still going up."

Chromia took the datapad back. "These mecha are probably only joining because they think we're going to feed and house them."

"Well, we _are_ going to do that," Elita said. "As soon as I can figure out a solution to the groundbridge problem. We can't get a permit, it takes half a vorn to get all the paperwork filed and approved. However I had a mech from Nova Cronum contact me late last orn—we have a really big following there, actually."

"I know," Chromia said. "There were almost as many mecha in the army from Nova Cronum as there were from Iacon… until this on-cycle, at least."

"In any case, there's a mech in Nova Cronum who has some influence over a groundbridge station there who said he might be able to get us limited access to some of the groundbridges. I was actually thinking of suggesting that we all relocate there."

"That would pose problems," Chromia said.

"I know. And now that we have more soldiers from Iacon…" Elita said. "We'll have to come up with something else, and fast. Did you tell Orion about all the mecha signing up? He could probably use some good news—I think something's been bothering him more than normal since last orn."

"Yeah," Chromia said. "He did seem kind of mopey. And we _did_ tell him."

Elita frowned. "Maybe I should try talking to him again."

Chromia shook her helm. Ironhide knew she and Elita had been a little bit at odds about Orion. It was a terrible situation, he had to admit. He had no idea what he'd do if he and Chromia couldn't be bonded anymore.

"I'll find somewhere to keep all the soldiers," Elita said. "And then go talk to him about that. That'll give me a good excuse."

"He's not your responsibility, Elita," Chromia said. "You aren't obligated to try and cheer him up."

"I know," Elita's expression hardened. "Would you please let me deal with this the way that—"

"The way that keeps getting you hurt?" Chromia snapped. "Like how miserable you were last off-cycle after he basically rejected you?"

"That's not what happened," Elita said.

"Oh, really?"

Ironhide wanted to steer the subject back toward something more productive, but he did not want to get in between these two if they were gearing up to fight. Elita wasn't as feisty as Chromia, but she could hold her own against her sister when she was angry.

She looked as if she were about to snap back at Chromia, but then she deflated. "Well, you're not helping," she said quietly. "Excuse me, I have to figure out where to put two thousand soldiers."

"Pit," Chromia said after Elita left the room, putting a hand to her faceplate. "I just…" she threw her hands up in the air. "It's not my fault. She needs to get over it and face reality so she can just… move on and stop… you know?"

"I guess," Ironhide said, "But you…" he trailed off, changing his mind. Giving Chromia his honest opinion on the matter when she was already frustrated…

"But I what?" Chromia demanded.

"Nothing."

"No, you were going to say something."

Ironhide tried to choose his words very very carefully. "She's not listening to you. Maybe… she'll figure things out on her own in time, and telling her what to do is just making her defensive about it."

Chromia huffed. "But I don't want to wait for her to figure things out."

Ironhide nodded. "Yeah, that's definitely frustrating. Well, I'd better go check on Orion. But I'll see you in a joor or so—you're all learning how to fight."

"Oh, right," Chromia said. "That's this orn?"

"Yes," Ironhide said. "And probably most future orns. You all need to practice frequently."

"Sure," Chromia said. "Guess I'll see you then."

* * *

Orion watched as the number of Autobot recruits ticked upward, checking back every few breems. It was still miraculously going up. He should have been wildly happy about it. But it was just another reminder that this was really happening—that they were going to have a war.

He was ashamed to realize that he'd actually been happy that so few mecha were enlisting. If no one signed up then they couldn't fight, and he didn't want to fight Megatronus. But now it seemed that they weren't going to have an easy way out. Orion would have to see it through until he defeated his former friend, or was offlined himself.

They were halfway between two and three thousand recruits when the entry request chimed on his office door.

He called for whoever it was to come in, and straightened his desk a little. Prowl hadn't come to talk to him yet this orn, though he'd received several memos from the former enforcer.

It was Elita.

Orion stood as she came in. "Elita, welcome, I…"

She had a triumphant light in her optics he hadn't seen for a long time, but it faded as the silence stretched out.

"Please sit down," he said.

She looked almost afraid as she crossed the room to sit across the desk from him, and he returned to his seat as well feeling terrible. He didn't know why she was scared, but he hoped she wasn't afraid of him.

"So," she said. "I have some good news about the groundbridge situation,"

"Before any of that," Orion said. "I have to apologize. I…" he didn't know what to say. He had been hoping to see her some time this orn, but now he wasn't sure how much to tell her...

"It's all right—"

"No, it's not all right," Orion said. "It was insensitive of me to leave halfway through our conversation last orn."

Elita looked down at her hands. "I could tell you were upset about something. But I… shouldn't have pushed you about it. You have no obligation to share anything with me."

He _should_ tell her about the trials, and about what becoming a Prime would mean for him. It might be better for her to know that he would forget. She had said she didn't want to give up on him, but if he explained everything and then _asked_ her to give up…

But he didn't know if he could bring himself to do that—even though it would cause her less pain in the long run. He still didn't want to lose her.

"Orion?" she said.

He took a deep vent. "What I was upset about last orn… it's…" He couldn't tell her. Silence stretched between them like a deep chasm.

Elita nodded. "I know you're having a hard time, and obviously I don't understand everything you're dealing with, but I think you're doing very well. You're stronger and better than you think you are."

Orion couldn't quite force himself to smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry… I wish I could tell you everything."

"You don't have to tell me everything."

"Elita... I want you to be happy," Orion said.

She looked afraid again.

"A few orns ago, Yoketron asked me what I would do if I could choose—if I didn't need to be a Prime. I told him I would go back to the Hall of Records, but that's not true. I couldn't go back to my old life and be content—not without you."

She looked down.

"I wish things were different," Orion said. "But I have limitations I had no idea about. And I can't make you as happy as I want you to be. In fact, I'll probably keep hurting you…"

Elita shook her helm. "There's something I want you to know,"

"What?"

"I love you, but… you don't _control_ my happiness. You can't 'make' me happy. The situation is terrible, but it's not your fault, and I'm not your responsibility any more than you're my responsibility. Can't we set all of that aside and just… keep caring about each other?"

Orion stared at her, guilt eating him from the inside. He didn't want to lie to her, didn't want to keep secrets from her. He didn't want to lead her on without telling her how much he was going to change.

But... Yoketron had said he would keep all of his memories from after the Council had appointed him. So the more time he spent with her now, the more he would remember her after he received the Matrix.

"All right," he said. "Let's do that."

"Thank you," she said. "Oh, I almost forgot, I came here to tell you about the groundbridges. I figured everything out."

"Really?"

"Yes," Elita said. "We couldn't _get_ a permit in time to make our own station, _but_ if the station _technically_ belongs to someone with a permit, then we can operate it without one. So I commed the owner of the Council Complex Groundbridge Station and talked him into letting us use _his_ permit to build our own station. We can put it almost anywhere we want. There's a big apartment building that's currently being renovated and doesn't have any tenants, and the owner says we can buy it. It'll work for a barracks until we get something else in place. And it's near some warehouses. One of them can be turned into a small groundbridge station—we probably only need a few bridges since we won't be sending mecha to a bunch of different places at once—and the others can be used for training."

Orion blinked. "That's… that's wonderful."

She nodded.

"When will you be able to secure all of this?"

"Oh, I've already got deals drawn up and arranged, I just need your approval. So probably by our ornly meeting, I can have everything ready. Except that I've agreed to let Ironhide and some of his old friends from work teach me how to fight—along with my sisters, and a bunch of other mecha."

He frowned—something about that made him uneasy. "Are you… sure you need to learn to fight?"

"Well, Ironhide seems to think it's important," Elita said. "And it would be good to be able to defend myself. I might even end up on a battlefield some orn, so yes, it seems like a good idea."

He nodded, though he _definitely_ didn't like the idea of her on a battlefield. He supposed he couldn't stop her from learning, though.

He looked back down at his datapad. "Another unrelated question," he said. "I know the reason we've had so many volunteers this orn is because of some factories closing, but…"

"Chromia's suspicious about that," Elita said. "On the news they said it was strange because the factories were all successful. Closing had nothing to do with running out of credit."

That _was_ strange. But not what he had been concerned about. "I want to talk to them," Orion said. "I don't think I've met many of the mecha who've volunteered to fight for us, and I want to be the kind of commander who knows his soldiers."

"Well," Elita said. "We can gather them all together soon. Probably the earliest we could be ready for them to move in will be… I don't know, a couple of orns. But we could have them all meet together before that if you want."

Orion nodded. "Perhaps early next orn?"

"I'll make sure that gets arranged," Elita said.

They talked more about the specifics of the buildings Elita and Chromia were planning to purchase, but then their conversation drifted to other topics. Orion almost forgot about the war as they fell back on the familiar things they'd enjoyed discussing back before everything had gone wrong.

And then, halfway through a sentence, Elita stopped and put a finger to the side of her helm. "Sorry," she muttered to Orion, then frowned. "Oh… Oh, I'm sorry, I completely forgot. I'll be there soon."

Orion shot a guilty look at the datapad on his desk. He wondered how many memos from Prowl he'd missed while they'd been talking.

"I have to go," Elita stood and headed for the door. "Thank you for talking with me," she called over her shoulder.

Orion stood as well. "Wait," he said, and came around the desk.

She stopped and turned to face him.

He embraced her, enfolding her in his arms and resting his faceplate on the top of her helm. It felt good to be so close to her, even though her spark was no longer in sync with his.

After a brief eternity, Orion let go, and Elita left, and he remembered that he only had a few joors before he had to meet with Yoketron to start the Primal Trials, and he only had a quarter of a vorn until he had to be ready to receive the Matrix of Leadership and leave his former life behind.

He should tell her about all of that. He should warn her.

But not this orn.

* * *

Mirage walked in silence through the empty, narrow aisles between factory equipment. He tried to ignore the smell of the place—old grease, grime, and rust—as he contemplated his purpose here.

Mainspring had asked him to go to the factories and look around in an effort to determine why they had suddenly closed. The Autobots were already much less naïve than they had been earlier, and while he could tell they were relieved to have so many recruits, they were suspicious about it.

He wondered how long it would be before they found out that the mech who had owned these factories had actually sent all of the workers a memo recommending that they join the army. That was likely to get into the news at some point.

He also wondered if they'd _ever_ find out that these factories closing was actually going to undermine the Autobot cause in the long run.

He still wasn't sure if he'd made the right choice.

He didn't think his guests knew what it was like to be a high tower noble. There were always things to do, places to go, mecha to talk to, games to play, challenges, parties. There were triumphs and terrible failures. There was intrigue and love and hatred and friendship. Life was long and fascinating and fulfilling.

He'd thought, initially, that he could teach his guests how to think like him—that he could educate them in the careful politics of the elite and thus help them gain power and credibility.

But instead, the opposite had happened. He had realized that his entire world was fake.

He reached the end of the aisle and turned to stare down the empty row of benches and tables and equipment. There were better ways to run places like this—ways that made use of better machinery and skilled operators and mechanics. But updating everything would cost so much that it would take more than a hundred vorns to make up for it. It was cheaper to crowd mecha so close together that they could barely move, and force them to work long orns on assembly lines for nearly no credit.

He had been here just eight orns ago, and had watched them work. He'd wondered at first what would possess anyone to stay here, and he was ashamed that it had taken him more than a joor to realize that if they quit their jobs at this factory, they would probably starve.

He couldn't even imagine that.

The ability to turn invisible had coaxed him down from his tower on occasion. He'd gone to see some of Blurr's races, and he'd enjoyed strolling through the historical streets of Iacon Central from time to time, so he had known that common mecha resented the nobility. But he had thought they were simply jealous, or that they were confusing his mecha with the government. The Council was corrupt—everyone knew that—but the high tower nobles were merely misunderstood.

 _He_ had misunderstood.

He had never known exactly where all his credit came from. He had asked when he was a youngling and he still remembered that conversation with his creators. They had emphasized that they didn't need to worry about it, because they hired servants to do their finances. They had explained that mecha should do what they were good at, and that Mirage had been sparked for parties and politics, not accounting. If you started to lose credit, that meant it was time to have your hiring manager find you some new servants to run your finances.

When he'd been given his mod, and the opportunity to live in his own tower, he had been informed that his main income would be from several factories throughout Iacon and Tagan Heights, but he hadn't looked into it further.

Then he'd overheard some of the mecha from Autobot talking about poor conditions in factories and other work places and had decided to investigate.

He could still remember the vivid scene from his first time here. It had been noisy, overcrowded, and overwhelming. He had watched mecha with scratched paint jobs and corroded faceplates working side by side, some chatting, others focused grimly on their work. He'd witnessed a femme lose a finger in the machinery, and then listened to her complain to her neighbor in a voice tight with pain that she didn't have enough credit for a replacement, or even to go see a medic about it.

He'd watched an older, sick-looking mech cough rust flecks all over his workspace while the mecha around him winced and tried not to get too close to him. He'd collapsed at one point, and for several breems his neighbors had cast furtive, uncomfortable glances in his direction. Then a supervisor had walked in their direction and someone had finally reached out and shaken the sick mech back online.

He took in a deep vent, and stared up at the high ceiling before turning to walk down another empty aisle.

This was his factory. _His_ luxury had been paid for all these vorns by femmes who couldn't afford to see a medic about a missing finger and mechs who were so covered in rust they could barely _walk._ He had thought he was a member of some third party, separate from the evils of the Council. But really, though he hated to admit it, he could no longer deny that he and his peers were part of the problem.

And as terrifying as it was to give it all up—to abandon the perfect world that he'd lived in his whole life in favor of one where mecha suffered and starved, to fire his servants, close his factories, and hand over every scrap of credit he owned to the Autobots—he had to. He couldn't bear the knowledge that _he_ was responsible for the conditions these mecha had been enduring.

He reached the end of the aisle, listening as the lonely walls creaked in the wind. This building was about ready to fall apart, and it wasn't the worst of them, and he _still_ had factories in Tagan Heights that he hadn't gone to see. He might have to make up an excuse to leave for a few orns to tour the rest of his sources of income and see if he needed to close them too.

But for now he would go back and invent something to tell Mainspring. He was afraid that they wouldn't want to use his money if they knew where it had come from, so he couldn't tell them. It would be better if no one ever found out.

And hopefully, life in the army would be better for his employees than life in the factories, even though it might be shorter.

Mirage gave his property one last glance before leaving the way he had come. He would tell Mainspring that he hadn't been able to figure out who'd made the decision to shut down. It would remain a mystery, as long as he could keep it that way.


	8. The First Trial

Ironhide stuck his helm into Orion's office. "You ready?"

Orion shuttered his optics, taking in a deep vent, and stood. He was anything but ready. Master Yoketron had made the Primal Trials sound unpleasant, and the fact that they took more than a vorn on average to complete also worried him. Most Primes got to spend all their time preparing to receive the Matrix. If it took _them_ a vorn, then what chance did he have? He had to run an army on the side.

He followed Ironhide out of his office and they met up with Chromia at the elevator.

"You're coming?" Orion asked.

Chromia shrugged. "Maybe not for the whole time, and I've got some work to do while we're there, but yes, I'm coming. Is there a problem with that?"

"No," Orion said as the elevator started down. "It's good to have you with us. Um… how did training go?"

"Really well, actually," Ironhide said. "Less than half of the actual commanders were there because Red Alert locked himself in his office, and Mainspring said he had too many important things to do. We got a bunch of other mecha from the other departments, though. And everyone did well. Chromia and Elita will be able to hold their own in no time, and Moonracer's got the makings of a great sniper."

"I don't know," Chromia said. "She spent so much time laughing her aft off about Ratchet, I'm not sure how much she actually learned."

"You talked Ratchet into coming?" Orion said.

"Yeah," the elevator reached the ground floor and they walked out of the building toward Landquake, who was already waiting for them. "But I don't think he's coming back."

"What happened?" Orion wondered whether he should go talk to the medic after training with Yoketron. If it had been a bad experience for him, then he might need someone to talk to. "Is he all right?"

They climbed into the transport and Chromia and Ironhide grinned at each other, but didn't answer.

"What?" Orion asked.

Ironhide snorted. "Yeah, he's fine. Honestly, I think he only showed up to convince us to leave him alone about it, which is kind of pointless, because he could have just _told_ us he already knew how to fight."

"Would you have believed him, though?" Chromia said.

Ironhide tilted his helm to the side. "Come to think of it, probably not. I'm still trying to process that..."

Chromia and Ironhide chatted for the rest of the drive. Listening to them helped take the edge off of Orion's nervousness, so he was glad both of them had come.

He told himself he was worrying too much about the trials, but that didn't really help.

They reached Landquake's apartment building, and the transport let them out, then led the way into his house, and Ironhide introduced Chromia to him and Petra.

"So," Orion said. "Prowl is already here, correct?"

"Yes," Landquake said. "I don't know if they'll come back in or if you're just supposed to go meet them."

"Meet them where?" Chromia asked.

"The garden," Petra said. "You want to see it? I don't think you've seen it, Ironhide, have you?"

"No," Ironhide said. "I thought it was like… I don't know, off-limits or something."

Petra shook her helm and waved a tiny hand for them to follow her. Ironhide looked a little uncomfortable, but he followed anyway as Petra led them down the hall and out into the garden. Yoketron and Prowl were sitting across from each other in the courtyard, apparently meditating, but Yoketron un-shuttered his optics and stood as they approached.

"Wow," Chromia said, looking around. "Yeah, this is pretty impressive."

"Nice high walls," Ironhide said.

"I meant all the crystals," Chromia said.

Prowl stood with a flick of his doorwings and turned to frown at them with his arms crossed defensively.

"Good orn," Yoketron said.

"Sorry to intrude," Petra said. "I just wanted to show them the garden."

"That's all right," Yoketron said. "Welcome Ironhide, and… I know I've seen you before."

"I'm Chromia," she said. "Ironhide and I are bonded."

"Ah," Yoketron smiled. "Wonderful. And you're also part of the command element of Autobot, correct?"

"Yes, over resources," Chromia said. "Whatever that means. And my two sisters are in the public relations department."

Yoketron nodded. "I believe I remember them as well."

"Yeah," Chromia said. "Moonracer's the loudmouth, and Elita's the one who _was_ bonded to that mech," she jerked her helm toward Orion.

Orion averted his gaze, aware that the blue femme was probably glaring at him. He knew she was still angry about that, and she did have a right to be.

"Really?" Petra said. "He was bonded?"

Orion wished they wouldn't talk about it. He shot a desperate glance at Ironhide, who nodded slightly, and cut of Chromia's response. "Hey, let's go back and talk to Landquake. Chromia, you should meet Petra's sparkling."

"Right," Petra said. "He's napping right now, but you can go in and see him. He's adorable, but he's only half a vorn old and he's already almost as big as me, it's _awful_."

Orion shot a grateful smile at Ironhide as the three of them went back down the hall.

"You were bonded?" Yoketron asked quietly.

Orion shuttered his optics. "Yes, but… not for very long. When I was appointed as a Prime our bond broke."

Silence fell, and Orion didn't want to see the pity in his instructor's optics, so he didn't look.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Yoketron said. "It must be hard."

Orion nodded. "I chose to accept my calling," he said. "But it's not fair to her."

Silence settled thick on the courtyard.

"Well, are we going to train?" Prowl said.

"Yes," Yoketron said. "Let's begin."

They trained together for almost a joor. Prowl was the superior fighter by far, which added frustration to Orion's nervousness.

"That will be enough." Yoketron said, after what felt like the hundredth time the Praxian had thrown him to the ground. "Good work, both of you."

Prowl bowed. "Thank you for your instruction."

"Thank you for your commitment," Yoketron replied. "You may go."

Prowl left, and Orion and Yoketron watched him walk down the hallway and into the building.

"So," Orion said. "Are we going to begin the trials?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "If you're ready."

"I don't want to put it off."

"Then sit." Yoketron gracefully sank into a sitting position and Orion followed him.

"So," Orion said. "What exactly _are_ the trials? You said something about viruses..."

"There are twelve trials," Yoketron said. "Each of them was developed by a member of the Original Thirteen Primes. The trials are designed to be very different from one another, and depending on your strengths and weaknesses, it will take a different amount of time and effort to complete each one. I can't tell you all the details of the first trial, in part because I don't know them, but there _are_ a few things I can explain."

"All right," Orion said.

"First, this is Liege Maximo's trial. I believe it's some sort of maze that you have to get through in a certain amount of time. When the time runs out, the program will deactivate and you'll be back here."

"Okay," Orion said. "A maze doesn't sound too bad. Will I… remember that it's not real?"

"I think so," Yoketron said. "I know that for some of the later trials you won't."

"Wasn't Liege Maximo…"

"Terrifying?" Yoketron said. "Yes. I don't know why his is the first trial, or why any of the trials in the order they are, except for Prima's, which is last for a reason. Are you ready?"

Orion took in a deep vent and nodded, steeling himself.

Yoketron got up and un-subspaced a data stick with an adapter that looked like the ones on medical equipment that plugged directly into mecha's helms. "You'll want to lower any processor defenses or firewalls you have and download the file off of this," he said as he walked around behind Orion.

Orion flinched when he felt the Circuit-Su master's fingers touch the back of his helm.

"Can I insert this?"

Orion obligingly slid some plating at the back of his helm aside to expose the dataport there and then shuttered his optics when he felt the data stick slip into place.

"You'll be all right," Yoketron said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You'll have one joor in the maze, and then you'll come back. Remember that."

Orion un-shuttered his optics and took one more deep calming breath before accessing the file on the data stick.

Everything went gray.

For a moment, there was nothing but fog and then and then the world solidified around him. He was in a small, square room with one doorway. A deep, resonant voice spoke, but Orion couldn't tell what direction it was coming from.

"You are the master of your own processor. You choose what is real and what is fake. Your objective is to reach the end of the maze."

Then silence.

Orion looked around. The walls and ceiling were dull gray and unpainted, and the floor was plain metal as well. The whole place was illuminated, but he couldn't see a light source anywhere.

He figured he should probably get started. It shouldn't take too long. If he kept track of which way he'd gone and where all the dead ends were, then he could determine what the right direction was—unless the maze was different every time.

He stepped out into the hallway. Right or left?

Orion turned left and ran his hand along the wall as he walked. Other than the surreal lighting, this place seemed very real. He could feel the smooth surface of the wall under his fingers. He could hear his footsteps echoing quietly.

And… he could hear something else too, as he approached the nearest corner. It was a high-pitched grinding sound of some sort and it seemed to be coming from ahead of him. He slowed to a stop as the sound got louder. Something about it made him feel very uneasy. He had heard that sound before somewhere, hadn't he? Something deep in his core was warning him that it was a very bad sound.

Maybe that was part of the simulation, though, and he was meant to feel afraid.

He couldn't let a strange sound stop him, and he had to try and complete this trial as soon as possible.

He rounded the corner.

The hallway was filled with scraplets.

Orion took an unconscious step back as the swarm fell silent and the little round parasites turned to look at him.

Then they moved as one, launching off of the walls and the floor they'd been gnawing on to fly at him. He was paralyzed, unable to move for two precious astroseconds. After that, he found his motor functions and turned to run, but he was too late. Scraplets latched on to him and tiny pricks of pain spread across his back. Distracted, he tripped over his own pedes and was overwhelmed. The swarm covered him, gnawing at his arms and helm and faceplate. Orion tried to brush them off, thrashing wildly, but it didn't do any good. He screamed as the pain mounted, until he felt them chew through his neck and consume his voice box. He felt an arm separate at the shoulder. A scraplet crawled into his left optic, consuming it and burrowing deep into his processor. The pain seemed to go on forever, and he wished he'd just offline. He couldn't see, couldn't hear anything besides the horrible buzzing and the tearing of his own mesh.

And then it was gone and he was suddenly standing upright again.

He un-shuttered his optics and looked down at himself. All there. No scraplets.

He was back in the square room he'd started in.

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, clenching his trembling hands into fists.

Apparently that had been the wrong direction.

He took a moment to calm down, but he couldn't stay here—he had to get through the maze.

Cautiously, he left the room and turned right this time. He listened carefully for the sound of the scraplets, but couldn't hear them.

He went around the corner and then another, and nearly crashed into a giant, many-legged symbiot. It shrieked at him, and he leaped backward and ran. It chased him past the beginning room and down the other direction. Orion felt something hit him, and a biting cold started in his side and spread outward across his back but he could still hear the symbiot behind him, so he didn't dare stop. He skidded around the corner…

And into the swarm of scraplets again. The cold spread down to his legs and he couldn't move them anymore. He collapsed and the scraplets swarmed him.

He couldn't move. The paralysis stopped his screaming before the scraplets ate out his voice box this time, and he could do absolutely nothing but wait for it to end.

And then he was back at the beginning again. He couldn't feel the pain anymore, but he could still remember the feeling of the scraplets inside of him, chewing through his internals.

One way a swarm of scraplets, the other way a venomous symbiot.

He paced back and forth in the beginning room. There had to be another way to go. Or maybe he was supposed to fight these things somehow.

You couldn't fight a swarm of scraplets.

He sat on the floor with his back against the wall of the small room. He would just wait here until the challenge was over. He didn't know how long he had, but he already felt like giving up. He'd just been eaten alive. Twice.

He shuddered.

He was probably going to have nightmares about that for decaorns. This really didn't make sense—he wasn't sure how simulations of being consumed by scraplets were going to help him become a stronger Prime. Maybe this was some sort of mistake?

Then again, from what he knew about Liege Maximo…

Orion put his helm in his hands. He could still remember that sound, that grinding, buzzing…

No.

It wasn't a memory.

He could hear it now.

Orion looked up with panic coursing through his core. The noise was still faint, but it was definitely there. He took in a deep vent. Maybe he could run into the maze and sneak past them somehow. Or maybe hiding would be better. He got up and pressed himself to the wall right next to the doorway, hoping that if they flew past it, they wouldn't notice him.

He listened as the sound got louder…

And louder…

And then a scraplet flew into the room, followed by another. Orion backed away, but the room was tiny and bare and there was nowhere to run or hide. He collapsed to the ground, sobbing as the swarm surrounded him and started eating through his mesh. He didn't fight this time, just waited for it to be over.

And then he was standing again.

He took a few astroseconds to calm himself down, but he knew now that staying at the beginning of the maze wasn't going to work.

He had to get through somehow, without getting killed. There _had_ to be a way to do this. What had that voice said in the beginning about things not being real?

Those scraplets had definitely _felt_ real.

He checked his memory files. The voice had told him he could choose what was real.

So there had to be a way to stop the scraplets from being real.

He looked at the open doorway. If he waited here much longer, they would come for him. He had nothing to lose.

Orion stepped out into the hallway and turned left, because as terrible as the scraplets were, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out what it felt like to be killed by the venomous symbiot. His audios strained as he walked down the hall, and every echo made him jump. Then when he got near the corner, he heard the now too-familiar buzzing noise. Every instinct told him to turn and run, but he forced himself to keep going.

 _They aren't real. They aren't real._

He rounded the corner. The scraplets came for him.

 _Not real. They're just fake. Just an illusion._

Orion took a step forward to meet them.

And they disappeared.

The hallway was empty again.

It had worked.

Orion let out a heavy sigh of relief and kept going. Further down, he hallway split three ways. He turned right, and was confronted immediately by a mech with an enormous, glowing sword. The mech struck before Orion was ready, decapitating him, and the last thing he saw was his own body slumping to the ground.

And then he was in the first room again.

Orion shook his helm, trying to get the image of his own lifeless frame out of his processor as frustration welled up in his spark. He hadn't even had a chance to assess the situation before he'd been offlined.

He wanted to stay in the room, maybe try and find a way to barricade the door against the scraplets. But he knew what he needed to do. He didn't know how quickly he was running out of time, but he didn't want to waste any. He was going to have to walk through the scraplets again.

No. He was done with scraplets for now.

He turned right to go toward the symbiot instead. He met it around the corner and it hissed and shot a dart at him. Orion forgot to make it disappear and instinctively tried to dodge out of the way. The dart hit him, piercing his leg. Orion fell to the ground with a shout of pain as cold washed up the limb. The symbiot was coming at him now.

 _It's not real. It's not real._

The symbiot disappeared, but Orion still couldn't move his leg, and the cold hadn't stopped spreading through his frame. He tried to drag himself down the hallway, but didn't make it far before he was completely paralyzed. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't even do that. He was wasting time, and he couldn't move at all. After a few breems, he started to ache all over, as the pain mounted, he began to hope the symbiot's venom would kill him.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, before he heard something coming down the hall, behind him. Not scraplets—something big, with at least four pedes.

He didn't even see what it was, just felt something hard and blunt slam into his back, crushing his spark chamber.

And then he was at the beginning of the maze again.

It happened again and again. He tried the symbiot a few times, but it always hit him before he could focus enough to make it disappear. Sometimes he'd get past the scraplets. Sometimes the scraplets started swarming him before he could make them disappear. And then after he _did_ get rid of them he was forced to continue through the maze injured.

He never got very far.

On his nineteenth time, Orion dodged the swordsmech's first blow, and focused on him, pretending he could see through the mech to the other wall, pretending the mech wasn't there.

The mech disappeared.

With a tired sigh, Orion put a hand to his leaking arm, but that just made it hurt worse. There were deep trails in it that the scraplets had left.

Orion continued. The next obstacle was a black fog—some sort of gas that filled the entire hallway and billowed toward him

 _Not real. Not real._

Orion walked into it. His vents seized up, and he fell to his knees. It felt like acid was eating him from the inside.

 _Not real._

 _Not real…_

The mist vanished, but Orion was shaking hard. His vents coughed, still burning, but Orion struggled to his pedes and continued on.

He'd only gone a few steps before the walls of the maze went blurry and he fell to his knees again, suddenly dizzy.

Then he un-shuttered his optics. The crystal garden was almost blindingly bright compared to the gloom of the maze. Yoketron was seated across from him, watching him in silence.

Orion shifted. He felt stiff, though the pain was gone.

It was over.

"Orion?" Yoketron said.

Orion put his faceplate in his hands, trembling, venting hard. He shuttered his optics for a moment, but images of swarming scraplets played in his processor so he sat up instead, looking around, grateful for the light.

"Orion?" Yoketron said again, sounding concerned.

Orion forced himself to relax. "I don't think I did very well," he said. "Around every corner of the maze there was something that would kill me. I had to pretend they weren't real, to make them disappear…" He could feel himself shaking, despite his effort to calm down.

Yoketron was watching him carefully.

"And then every time I offlined, I had to start over."

"How far did you get?"

"Not far at all. I could only get past three or four at the most. That felt like forever. Are you sure it was only one joor?"

"It was only one joor," Yoketron said.

"Do I… Do I really have to do it again until I get to the end of the maze?"

"I am afraid so," Yoketron said. "If that's what the voice at the beginning told you."

"Was that Liege Maximo's voice?" Orion said.

"Yes."

"And that… that is the first challenge. As in the _easiest_?"

"Not necessarily," Yoketron said. "Some trials are easier or harder for different mecha. I think this is one of the most unpleasant trials, but they will all challenge you in one way or another."

Orion vented a sigh and sat back. The scent of the crystal garden was comforting, and the cool tiles he was sitting on felt nice against his plating as well. He would rather never _ever_ do that again. But he didn't have that option. He took one more stabilizing vent and sat up again. "Do I have time to do it again this orn?"

Yoketron looked surprised. "I don't know if I would suggest that, but… you have time to do it once more." They made optic contact. Orion wanted Yoketron to protest. It wouldn't take much to dissuade him from trying again.

But the Circuit-Su master just nodded.

Orion shuttered his optics, trying to brace himself. He had to do it, and he had to do it quickly. Not only did they have limited time, but the sooner Orion made it through that maze, the sooner it would be over. Once he made it through, he'd never have to go in again.

Yoketron must have removed the data stick from his helm while he was in the trial, because he had to come around and insert it again.

Orion accessed the file on it.

Everything went gray.

* * *

Jazz waited until he was certain Soundwave was off-base, and then left his post and headed to his quarters.

He hadn't said anything in the meeting this orn, though he'd wanted to. He had a very uneasy feeling about Megatron's plans, but he knew he had to be careful and stay loyal, because the telepath was almost certainly watching him.

He was so angry at himself. He kept picking the wrong side, over and over. Why the pit was he a Decepticon?

He had no idea.

But he knew there must be a reason.

He locked himself in his room and made sure the security camera above his door was turned off. Then he pulled open his middle desk drawer. Deep in the back, under a collection of random junk he'd picked up over the last few decaorns, was a small datapad that supposedly had answers.

He found it and set it on the desk, turning it on.

He'd written a message to himself on the lock screen, in a code that he'd come up with when he was a sparkling.

[Hack into this datapad if you ever start to question your loyalty]

And the weird thing—the really weird thing—was that he remembered writing those words, but he couldn't remember why. He was missing bits and pieces—his memory files were full of holes.

And he was pretty sure they weren't random holes.

He set about hacking into the datapad. It was tricky—almost too tricky—and it took him nearly a joor to get it unlocked. Hopefully all this work was worth it, and this wasn't some stupid prank his past self had decided to play on his present self.

He wouldn't put it past himself.

Finally, the datapad screen lit up with another message in the same code as before. He leaned over the desk as he read.

[Congratulations!

You are the smartest mech in the whole fragging world. You've just won a ten billion credit prize for hacking this datapad, which can be collected the orn you finally decide to stop paying attention to random notes you leave yourself.]

And that was it.

"What?" Jazz said. "What the _frag_ , mech?"

He put a hand to his helm, shuttering his optics. He was talking to himself—talking to himself _retrospectively_. "I'm going insane."

When he looked at the datapad again, the words had been replaced by another, longer message.

[Ok, sorry about that, I couldn't resist. I'm sure you'll forgive me, because after all, I know for a fact you'd do the exact same thing in my position.

Guess what? You're not a Decepticon. You're an Autobot double agent. However, because that's something a certain symbiot-loving friend of yours would have noticed real quickly, I've come up with this amazing plan to keep you undercover.]

"Aw, pit," Jazz muttered, not sure whether to be relieved or horrified.

He kept reading.

[As soon as I'm done writing this message, I'm going to erase all of my memories that have to do with choosing to become a double agent. I was actually _going_ to join Megatron for about an orn before I reconsidered, so hopefully that'll stick. It's a lot easier to fake something if you don't know you're faking it.

But I'm also counting on realizing every once in a while that Megatron's a maniac, so I've written this note to the future me. Every time you read it, write up a quick report about whatever evil thing Megatron's doing and send it to Prowl. I'll include his message codes at the end.

Once you've done that, you need to reset the datapad and erase everything negative you ever thought about the Decepticon cause. Make sure that right before you do that, you leave yourself a mental reminder to stay loyal, and to read this datapad if you start to wonder why that's so important.

Good luck,

Jazz]

Jazz shook his helm as the reality of his position hit him and everything suddenly made sense. He _was_ insane. This was _insane_.

But apparently, it had been working.

And he hadto tell the Autobots what Megatron had revealed in the meeting earlier this orn. It was a good thing that had pushed him over the edge, because there wasn't much time.

Conveniently, the datapad with his note on it was capable of sending messages, so he typed up a couple of paragraphs. He made note of Megatron's plans, and the current state of things in Kaon, checking his facts a couple of times with one of his other datapads, so he could give the Autobots accurate numbers.

Then he sent the message to Prowl, and reset the datapad.

The first message reappeared.

[Hack into this datapad if you ever start to question your loyalty]

"Okay," he said to himself. "Here we go."

He stuck the datapad in the very back of the middle drawer of his desk and started marking memories for deletion.

* * *

Orion was dragged from recharge by his comm beeping loudly in his audios. He sat up with a start, looking around the dark room.

Then, once he realized nothing was trying to kill him, he checked his comm. It was Prowl.

He answered. "What is it?" This was the third time he'd come out of recharge this off-cycle, and his chronometer said there were still several joors before the next orn officially started.

" _We need to have a meeting. Just us and a few others. Conference room. Five Breems."_ Prowl cut the comm.

Orion sighed and dragged himself from his berth. He was tired enough that he would almost choose more nightmares about being eaten alive than a meeting with Prowl. Did that mech _ever_ recharge?

He shouldn't complain. Things would be much harder without the former enforcer. It was very fortunate that he'd decided to join Autobot. Orion reminded himself as he crossed the room that Prowl had saved their organization when the Council had tried to arrest them. For all his apparent arrogance and pride he never brought it up in arguments, but he had literally risked his life to save them, even before he'd joined them.

Ironhide was sitting outside Orion's door. He started online when Orion passed him.

"What... where are you going?"

"Ironhide, I told you, you can recharge in your own quarters if you want."

"I'm your self-appointed bodyguard," Ironhide stood up with a yawn. "Until you either learn some common sense or that old ninja teaches you how to fight. You can't just wander around..."

"I have a meeting."

"At this joor?"

"I suppose. Prowl called it."

Ironhide yawned again. "Okay, I'm coming."

He followed Orion to the main meeting room. The lights were on, and Prowl and Mainspring were already sitting there, looking grim. Had something happened to Jazz?

"Am I invited to this one?" Ironhide asked.

"No," Prowl said.

"I'm sorry," Orion said to him. "It's not that I don't trust you..."

"I know," Ironhide said. "Mech, I worked for the Council. I get that not everyone should know every secret."

Orion didn't like to be compared to the Council. "It's not something—"

"I know, I know," Ironhide said. "It's fine. I'll wait outside." He stepped backward into the hall and shut the door behind himself.

"What's going on?" Orion sat down.

Mainspring looked to Prowl, who nodded and spoke. "We've received word from Kaon. Megatron plans to attack another city-state in nine orns. Tarn, to be precise."

Orion's processor spun. "He's… already?"

Prowl nodded.

Orion slumped over on the table, putting his helm in his arms. This was too much. On top of everything he'd endured the past on-cycle, Megatron was gearing up for an attack.

"Prime, sir?" Mainspring said.

"I can't do this. Not right now. It's the middle of the off-cycle and I've barely had any recharge." As soon as he said the words, they sounded immature and selfish. The fate of a city-state—hundreds of thousands of lives—and he was complaining about being tired.

Silence fell around the table.

"We should make a decision about what to do," Mainspring said. "As soon as possible."

Orion pushed himself back up and met the older mech's optics. "You're right," he said. "I apologize."

"To state the obvious," Prowl said. "We're not prepared for an attack."

"No," Orion said. "How many soldiers do we have?"

"The latest count is almost four thousand," Prowl said. "But even if we bring them all in next orn, they'll only have eight orns of training before the attack. A small, well-trained force can win, even when outnumbered, but our mecha won't be well-trained."

And some of them would offline.

Orion felt cold.

Earlier this orn, he had learned what it felt like to offline.

"Our army won't be able to stand against Megatron's," Prowl said. "Not after just nine orns of training."

"Then what do we do?" Orion asked. "We can't let Megatron take the city."

"It's possible Tarn will be able to defend itself," Mainspring said. "After all, the only reason Megatron was able to take Kaon was because there were so many mecha on the inside ready to fight for him."

"If we warn them," Prowl said. "They should be able to muster enough of a militia to defend themselves, but a lot of them will offline."

"What if we warn them and then send our soldiers to support them?" Orion asked.

"That might be our best option," Prowl said.

"There are only two drawbacks I can see to that," Mainspring said. "The first is that to stand and fight against Megatron's army will lead to many casualties. The second is that from the report we received, Megatron has only told a few mecha about this plan. If we reveal that we know it, we risk jeopardizing our friend in Kaon's cover."

Orion looked down at the hexagonal pattern on the meeting table. Those were both good points. He didn't want to risk the lives of his mecha already, or the lives of civilians in Tarn, not to mention Jazz.

"Another thing," Prowl said. "We don't have groundbridges yet, and while Elita has managed to secure permission for operating them, it will take more than nine orns to build a station that's up to code."

"That is also true," Mainspring said.

"And we don't know exactly how large this attack is going to be," Prowl said. "It would be insane for Megatron to try and take the entire city-state. It's a forty-sector metropolis, with a population comparable to Polyhex. It's possible he's just testing the strength of his forces."

"But that doesn't mean we should sit back and let it happen," Orion said.

Prowl nodded.

"Honestly," Mainspring said. "We don't have enough information to make an informed decision."

"Maybe I can help with that," Mirage appeared off to the side of the room. Orion and Mainspring both jumped, but Prowl didn't react.

"What…" Mainspring said with disappointment evident in his voice. "Mirage…"

"This is my tower," Mirage pointed out. "And I know everything that goes on in it, thank you very much."

"I was wondering if you'd say anything," Prowl smirked.

Mirage glared at him. "You couldn't have known I was there."

Prowl's doorwings flicked forward. "Couldn't I?"

"I don't make any noise when my mod is activated. You couldn't have heard me."

"That's beside the point," Prowl said stiffly. "You were about to offer us your assistance?"

"Well…" Mirage said, looking unsettled. "Yes."

"Go on then."

"First off," Mirage said. "We can avoid blowing our friend in Kaon's cover with some clever strategy. If Megatron starts preparing his army for battle, he won't be able to hide that. So as soon as it looks like he's gearing up to attack, you should contact _all_ of the city-states near Kaon and offer to help them make defense plans."

Prowl nodded. "That might work."

"So we wait?" Orion said. "And do our best to get ready, and then move as soon as Megatron does?"

Prowl nodded.

"Without letting him know that we know _where_ he's going to attack."

"It won't be as good as warning Tarn right away," Prowl said. "But it might be less risky overall. I can try to calculate the odds, but not with much certainty since we don't have enough information on what Megatron intends to do."

Orion looked down.

"Mirage?" Mainspring said.

"Yes?"

"I'm not happy that you were here listening in on this meeting. You aren't cleared to know some of the things we've been discussing."

"What, that Jazz is in Kaon playing double-agent? I've known that for a long time. And if I wasn't trustworthy, I wouldn't have spoken up," Mirage crossed his arms. "I would have let you talk things out and then I would have taken that information to Megatron. You wouldn't have known I was here."

"Actually, we would have," Prowl said. "And you would be in some serious trouble the next time we saw you."

Mirage frowned.

"In any case," Mainspring said. "Since you already know about the attack on Tarn, I'm giving you an assignment."

"If I go to Kaon, I risk Soundwave—"

"I don't want you in Kaon, I want you to go to Tarn and assess the situation there."

"I was _going_ to offer to go," Mirage said. "You don't have to order me around like a common soldier."

Mainspring put a hand to his faceplate.

"I'll be back in an orn or two," Mirage said, and disappeared again.

They waited in silence for several astroseconds. The door opened and closed again and a few moments later, Prowl nodded.

"Well, there goes that secret," Mainspring said.

"Do you think we can trust him?" Prowl asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Mainspring said. "I think so, but you can never be certain, not when it's so hard to tell where he is at any given time."

"I think we can trust him," Orion said. "Why is that a question? Is there some reason not to trust him?"

"You can't be too careful," Mainspring said with a sigh. "If you knew he was there, Prowl, why didn't you stop the meeting?"

"I wanted to see what he would do," Prowl said. "Honestly, if he's a traitor, we're done for. We're dependent on him for just about everything right now. I didn't want him to know I could tell he was there unless he proved he wasn't just spying on us."

"How _did_ you know?" Orion asked.

Prowl shook his helm. "If I tell you, then I risk him figuring it out and doing something differently."

That was fair.

"So," Mainspring said. "Should we tell anyone else about this? There might be things we can do to get ready. Elita should probably know, and maybe Ironhide…"

"I think we can have a meeting early next orn and announce that we believe Megatron is going to attack somewhere soon," Orion said. "But we don't need to give them details. The less we profess to know about the situation, the less we risk exposing Jazz."

Mainspring and Prowl nodded.

"Was that all?" Orion asked.

"Yes," Prowl said.

"Then we'll reconvene when Mirage returns," Orion said.

They murmured their agreement, and then Orion led the way out of the room.

Ironhide walked with Orion down the hall in silence and Orion went back to his room and lay down on the berth.

But he was too troubled to recharge. It didn't feel like this should be happening yet. It was too soon for Megatron to be attacking somewhere. Could Orion really defend a city-state? Was Mirage's plan really worth it, just to keep Jazz's cover? What if that made things worse in the long run? What if they tried to defend Tarn, but everything went wrong and all of the mecha who'd enlisted into his army offlined? He wished there was some sort of easy answer—something that would make it so no one needed to put their lives in danger.

But he couldn't think of one.

* * *

Notes:

1\. There will be a spare parts chapter about what happened with Ratchet during training.

2\. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!


	9. Deadlines

Orion stepped out of the transport and stared out over the crowd, spark sinking. His army spread before him—mecha with cracked faceplates and missing limbs, dull, chipped paint jobs and flickering optics. He suspected that many of these mecha hadn't had enough energon in their tanks for decaorns. Some of them were sick from rust, or malnourished.

He needed them to be trained soldiers in eight orns.

It wasn't going to happen.

And now that he saw them he wasn't sure what to say. These were the mecha he had been fighting for, the mecha he wanted to change things for, the mecha he wanted to protect.

Could he truly ask them to fight for _him_? To protect _him_?

Could he ask them to face Megatron and his armies—armies made up of the poor and underprivileged from Kaon. He understood, suddenly and clearly, that his war would kill the mecha he had been trying to save.

They watched him expectantly—waiting for him to say something, to welcome them into the Autobot army.

He had prepared to do that, but the words he had chosen didn't seem right anymore.

Still he had to say something.

"Mecha of Iacon..." What could he tell them? They hadn't joined him because they wanted to fight. They'd joined his army because they had no other choice. They needed his help at least as much as he needed theirs. "I am honored that you have pledged to join this cause. I... do not know how to express my gratitude."

They watched, silent, and he could sense their discomfort.

"Megatron claims that he wants a better world, but he does not have the patience to wait for it. And in his quest to rid the world of corruption, he will extinguish too many innocent sparks. I wish this war was not necessary. It was never in my plans to lead an army and I doubt that many of you planned to be soldiers. Yet here we are. I will do my best to lead you, and as your commander, I will do my best to provide for you as well. All I ask is that you do your best to train, to prepare yourselves to fight as quickly as possible. Megatron could attack any orn, and if he does, we will need to respond."

They only had eight orns.

It wouldn't be nearly long enough.

* * *

Mainspring looked up when Red Alert burst into his office. The security mech skidded to a halt, glaring suspiciously into the corners.

"Good orn, Red Alert," Mainspring said.

"Shhh," Red Alert hissed. "I need to talk to you privately."

Mainspring had to try very hard not to sigh. "All right," he said. "Go ahead and close the door if it makes you feel safer."

"Mirage could be here," Red Alert said. "Or someone could have hidden—"

"Mirage is not currently in Iacon, as far as I know, and my office does _not_ have any hidden cameras or microphones other than the ones you put in here. Wouldn't you have seen on the cameras if someone else had installed some?"

Red Alert frowned, and Mainspring could see his processor trying to find a way around that logic.

"Not if _Mirage_ put them here. But I suppose it doesn't matter. This whole place is a security disaster. There are _still_ passages that the servants use that I don't know about. I keep trying to get that noblemech to give me a full blueprint of the place, but… but that's not what I came to talk about."

He shut the door and crossed the room to sit on the other side of Mainspring's desk.

"So what _did_ you come to talk to me about?"

Red Alert leaned forward. "I have _proof_ that Ultra Magnus is trying to undermine Optimus."

Mainspring raised an optic ridge. "I think everyone already assumes that. We're not working with him because we trust him, we're working with him because that was part of our negotiations with the Council. Besides, I think he's been very helpful—"

"Not anymore," Red Alert pulled a small device out of subspace and set it on the desk.

"What is that?"

"Just a speaker. I put a microphone on Ultra Magnus while he was recharging, so I could make sure that he was actually telling the Council what Orion—I mean Optimus—wanted him to."

"Oh," Mainspring said. "And?" If Ultra Magnus was lying to the Council about Optimus's wishes, they might have a problem after all.

"Well, last orn, he didn't even _go_ to talk to the Council."

"What?" Mainspring frowned. Ultra Magnus had certainly left base under the pretense of going to see the Council. "Where did he go then?"

"I was listening carefully. I think maybe he _did_ go to the Council Hall, but he didn't talk to the Council. He just sat there until someone came out and _gave_ him something, I think. And then he left and came back here."

"That _is_ strange," Mainspring admitted. "Huh…"

"I didn't understand so I didn't say anything. If he neglected to talk to them again this orn, I was going to bring it up to Optimus after he got back from training."

Mainspring was surprised that Red Alert had managed to avoid panicking about that. "Good thinking."

"But then _this_ orn…" Red Alert leaned in. "He _did_ talk to the Council. Listen. I recorded it."

Red Alert turned the device on and Mainspring tilted his helm to the side, listening. At first there was only static and the sound of an engine running, but then a voice spoke.

" _Sir, the Council would like to speak with you."_

Mainspring listened to what sounded like a door opening, and then footsteps that echoed faintly. They stopped after a few astroseconds, and a vaguely familiar voice that might have been High Councilor Halogen's spoke.

" _Welcome, Ultra Magnus,"_ Halogen said. " _We have a request that we thought we would explain in person, just to make sure we're on the same datafile."_

" _Very well,"_ Ultra Magnus's voice said.

Mainspring looked at Red Alert, who was staring intently at the speaker.

" _It has become apparent since the commanders meeting last orn that the Autobots are getting inside information from Kaon somehow,"_ Halogen said.

Mainspring narrowed his optics.

" _Do you know what the source is?"_

"Wait," Mainspring said. "Pause it."

Red Alert reached out and tapped the speaker to stop the recording.

"I don't like that wording Halogen used. I wouldn't be surprised if Ultra Magnus sends information about our meetings to the Council, but it sounds like they're the ones who made that connection, like they were listening to the meeting."

"I bet he records them," Red Alert said. "I bet he records the meetings and sends them directly to the Council. We might as well invite Halogen himself to sit in on them."

Mainspring shook his helm. They hadn't thought about that.

Red Alert started the recording again.

" _No,"_ Ultra Magnus's voice said. _"You know everything I do about the situation_."

" _Well, we would like you to look into it,"_ Halogen said. _"While we're more than aware of the situation in Tarn itself, none of our sources has said anything about the Decepticons preparing for battle. However, the Prime seems certain he'll attack within a decaorn and I don't like the idea that he has better information than we do."_

That wasn't good. Jazz's mission was one of their closest kept secrets. And what had Halogen meant about the situation in Tarn? According to Jazz, Megatron hadn't told many mecha he was going to attack there.

" _Why does that matter?"_ Ultra Magnus asked.

" _Are you questioning me, Captain?"_

" _No, your honor,"_

Councilor Halogen paused for an astrosecond, then spoke again. _"The time has come for you to be more than audios and optics for us. I want you to discover how the Autobots are getting information from Kaon by whatever means necessary. It seems Optimus has begun to trust you, so you can use that to your advantage."_

The echoes of that demand died off. Ultra Magnus was silent.

" _There is also another matter. In our previous instructions, we asked you to convince the Autobots to make use of Council resources instead of relying on the noblemech. But you barely even brought it up."_

" _I apologize."_

" _We gave you some suggestions for casting suspicion on Mirage to make them less willing to accept his help."_

" _I was unable to implement any of them."_

" _You are not taking your loyalty to us seriously."_

Again, Ultra Magnus was silent. Mainspring wondered whether he really did serve the Council or not. He certainly had never heard Magnus defend them, though he reminded everyone frequently of where his loyalties lay. Maybe the Council had blackmailed him somehow.

" _The Autobot army must depend on us,"_ Halogen's voice said. _"We must control them or we will have two rogue armies instead of one. Since you failed to convince them to use our resources, we must resort to more drastic measures of gaining control over the army."_

That didn't sound good.

 _"We don't want to cripple the army itself, but we need information we can use to keep Optimus Prime in our subspace pockets. Do you understand?"_

 _"Yes, Sir,"_ Ultra Magnus said curtly.

 _"Then in addition to discovering the Prime's source of information, we would like you to sniff out other secrets of his. Find his weak points."_

Ultra Magnus took in a deep vent. _"I will try."_

" _Thank you,"_ Halogen said. _"I knew you weren't going to be a very good spy, but I hoped you'd at least be a_ little _better. I expect answers, or at least some progress, by next orn. Do you understand? Listen in on conversations, start asking the Prime to share a little more with you."_

" _Yes, Sir."_

" _That will be all."_

They heard Ultra Magnus walk out of the room, and then Red Alert turned the speaker off.

Silence fell between them for an astrosecond.

"See?" Red Alert said. "He's actively working against us."

"I see," Mainspring said. "You should show this to Optimus."

"I can't. Optimus is gone—he's training with that old ninja or something and his comm. is off. I commed Ironhide, but _he_ wouldn't listen to me."

Mainspring nodded thoughtfully.

"And Ultra Magnus could be back here any astrosecond. We should arrest him as soon as he walks through the doors, but I don't… I don't know if that will _work._ What if he fights us? We'll have to sneak up on him and knock him out or—"

"Hold on," Mainspring said. "Let's wait and talk to Optimus about it first."

"But… we can't let Magnus run loose in the tower!"

"He's been running loose in the tower for orns," Mainspring said. "Attacking him now isn't going to do any good. You're right that this is a more serious than we thought, but let's wait and see what Optimus decides to do about this…"

Mainspring trailed off as his door opened, revealing an empty hallway.

Red Alert turned around as well. "Why is the door open?"

Mirage appeared just inside and Red Alert let out an undignified squeak.

"Ah," Mainspring said, noting Mirage's grim expression. "I see you're back from Tarn already."

"Well, by some strange happenstance, it's the middle of the off-cycle on the other side of the planet. And I did _not_ want to recharge in an alleyway."

That was fair.

"I didn't need to stay longer anyway."

"Why?" Mainspring asked.

Mirage met his optics. "We can't save the city."

* * *

"Again, please."

Orion picked himself up off the ground, wincing. A few astroseconds later, he was on his back again.

"Orion," Yoketron said. "You're distracted."

"I know," Orion accepted Prowl's hand helping him up. "A lot of things have been happening and I didn't get much recharge last off-cycle."

"Again," Yoketron said. " _Try_ this time. Put everything you have into it."

Orion blocked Prowl's first attack and it took a few more astroseconds than normal for the other mech to knock him down.

"Better," Yoketron said. "You will be an army commander and unfortunately, missing recharge is part of the job description. You must learn to focus on what you need to do, not why it's hard or how tired you are. This time…"

Yoketron trailed off, looking toward the door. Ironhide was standing in the doorway.

Yoketron narrowed his optics and frowned at Orion

"Would you excuse us for a breem, Master Yoketron?" Orion asked, bowing.

"Yes," Yoketron said.

Prowl and Orion walked over to Ironhide.

"What is it?" Prowl asked.

"Mainspring wants to meet with you," Ironhide said. "He didn't say why. I don't know how urgent it is, but he's on the list of mecha I'm willing to interrupt for."

Orion looked at Prowl, who met his optics for an instant, then looked away. "We shouldn't risk keeping him waiting."

Orion walked back over to Master Yoketron. "Master, would you excuse us? We have to meet with someone."

"Yes," Yoketron said quietly. "You may go. Let me know if you can return later this orn. If you can't, then I expect you to train with me longer next orn."

"Thank you," Orion said.

They left. Prowl tapped his fingers on his leg nervously as Landquake drove them back to Mirage's tower.

They got inside, and met Mainspring and Mirage in Mainspring's office.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Mainspring said.

"We figured it was probably important," Prowl said.

"So?" Orion looked at Mirage.

The blue noblemech crossed his arms. "First of all, that was the most disgusting place I have ever been in my life. Busy, noisy, grimy… ugh. I'll have to take five oil baths to get rid of the scent, I'm certain."

"Would you just report?" Prowl snapped.

"Tarn is already _prepared_ for an attack from the Decepticons," Mirage said.

"Really?" Orion was confused.

"Yes. Megatron has been flooding the place with propaganda and the general populace is ready to rebel and overthrow the Tarn Council as soon as he gives the word. All he'll have to do is march in and take over."

"Oh," Orion said. "You mean they…"

"Two thirds of them are already calling themselves Decepticons," Mirage said. "And the whole city is in lock down—at least the Council won't let anyone come or go. They don't seem to know what to do. Apparently, they've approached the Iacon Council for help, but to no avail."

"They have?" Orion said.

"Ah," Mainspring said. "That makes sense."

"What?" Prowl narrowed his optics.

"It's another matter," Mainspring said. "Something we should talk with Red Alert about when we're done discussing Tarn."

That sounded like more bad news.

"So the Iacon Council knew that Tarn was in trouble, and didn't tell us?" Prowl said. "I guess I'm not that surprised."

"But don't they want us to fight the Decepticons?" Orion wondered. "Even if they don't care about civilian lives, Tarn is a major energon resource. Losing it to the Decepticons..."

"They must have weighed the risks and decided it was a lost cause," Mainspring said. "Besides, they're always looking for something bad to happen that helps them recruit for whatever side they're on."

"Either way, they should have told us," Orion said. "I wonder if that sort of thing is happening in other cities as well."

"I don't know if it matters," Mirage said. "It just means there's nothing we can do. Our army can't fight an entire city-state."

Orion shuttered his optics. He'd already decided they were going to try… but maybe things were better this way. This way he didn't have to get anyone killed yet.

"I understand now how Megatron expects to take the entire city state all at once," Prowl said. "That's unfortunate."

But they had to do something. They couldn't just let this happen and not _try_ to stop it somehow. "What are our options?" Orion said.

"What do you mean what are our options?" Mirage asked. "I just told you the city already belongs to Megatron."

"We can't be caught between the Decepticon army and the mecha in Tarn." Prowl said. "Sending in assistance would be suicidal and a complete waste of our limited resources."

"I concur," Mainspring said. "I'm sorry, Optimus."

"No," Orion said. "We have to do _something._ "

Silence fell, and the other three stared at him.

"I don't care about the resources in Tarn," Orion said. "The mecha are the important part. Surely not _everyone_ wants the Decepticons to take over."

"Some of the city officials have fled already," Mirage said. "The rest are planning to hand things over to Megatron and beg for a place in his system. Enforcement is the same way. I think the reason that they aren't letting anyone out is to make sure that the whole population of the city comes under Decepticon control."

Silence.

"All right," Orion said. "Is there some way we could help mecha evacuate?"

Mainspring and Prowl looked at each other.

"That would…" Mainspring said, then trailed off. "I don't know."

"Well," Mirage said. "Wouldn't it expose the fact that we know about the attack, and jeopardize the safety of our informant in Kaon? I mean, not that his life's more important than anymech else's, but if his cover is blown, there goes our source of inside information."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out again. "But could we do it?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "Isn't there an extensive cave system under the city from all the mining?"

"Yes," Mirage said. "The hardest part would be getting the news out to the right mecha and then finding them somewhere to go after they leave the city."

"We could bring them to Iacon," Orion suggested.

"It might be better to send them somewhere else," Mainspring said. "Especially if we want this to go quickly. We're going to need funding to feed and house the refugees, not to mention cooperation from groundbridge stations. Elita has mentioned that we may have some allies in Nova Cronum."

"Yes," Orion said. "We are on good terms with them. We might be able to send mecha there."

"And of course," Mainspring added. "We'll have to make sure all the refugees know they're very welcome to join the Autobots."

Silence fell for a few astroseconds.

"So should I start working on evacuation routes?" Prowl asked.

Orion nodded.

"This will lead to greater risk for our friend in Kaon," Mainspring said. "But you're right it may be our best course of action."

"One potential problem I can see with this is that if we want help from Nova Cronum, we're going to have to tell them about Tarn," Prowl said.

"I don't know who Elita's contacts in Nova Cronum are," Mainspring said. "We should ask her if there's anyone there we can trust to get us a groundbridge."

It was looking like Orion might not have time to go back and train with Yoketron until the next orn. "I will speak to her about it."

"This is actually good," Prowl said. "We don't have to wait for the attack to start evacuating mecha. We can start as soon as we find someone in Nova Cronum who's willing to fudge the groundbridge laws for us. We'll also need contacts in Tarn to spread the word about the evacuation." He looked at Mirage.

"Great," Mirage sighed. "You want me to go back?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Prowl raised an optic ridge.

"No," Mirage snapped. "I'll go. Of course, I'll go. I'm the only one who _can_."

"Thank you," Orion said. "Your assistance means a lot, Mirage."

"You're very welcome, Prime," Mirage said curtly, and then disappeared.

"All right," Prowl said. "Was there something else, Mainspring? You mentioned something about the Council and Red Alert?"

"Yes," Mainspring said. "But it's less significant than the Tarn situation. You should start working on evacuation plans."

Orion glanced at Prowl, wondering for a moment if he'd argue.

But he just nodded and left the room.

"So," Mainspring said. "I'll comm. Red Alert… and I'd like to invite Ironhide to be part of the discussion as well."

"All right," Orion said. "Why?"

"Well," Mainspring took in a deep vent and sighed it out. "It's about Ultra Magnus. It may be time to change the situation regarding him…"

* * *

Ultra Magnus answered his comm. promptly, with resignation in his spark.

" _Yes, Prime, Sir?"_

" _Ultra Magnus, can you come to my office? There is something we need to discuss."_

Ultra Magnus hesitated, but he couldn't refuse. _"Yes, Sir. I will be there as soon as I can."_

" _Thank you."_

Optimus cut the comm. and Ultra Magnus sat back in his chair. The last thing he wanted was to talk to the Prime privately. Optimus was far too trusting, and it was possible he intended to give Ultra Magnus sensitive information of some kind.

Even if that wasn't the case, Ultra Magnus was supposed to try and convince him to expose his information network.

He couldn't disobey an order from the Prime, though.

He got up from behind his desk and walked through the halls. Every orn, he questioned. Was he really doing the right thing? Was his oath to the Council really worth more than what his conscience told him?

He reached Optimus's office far too fast, and requested entry.

When the door slid open, he was relieved to see that the Prime was, in fact, not alone. Prowl, Ironhide and Mainspring were all here too, looking grim.

"Has something happened?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"Please sit," Optimus said.

Magnus came in and sat in the chair across the desk from Optimus. Ironhide stepped closer to him, looking wary—as if he were ready for a fight.

"We have a question," Optimus said. "Regarding the Council."

Ultra Magnus studied the Prime's faceplate. Optimus looked sorrowful about something.

"I will answer to the best of my ability," Ultra Magnus said.

They weren't going to like it if the Autobots asked him to spy on them… or maybe they _would_ like that. They could feed Optimus false information through Ultra Magnus. That could be a disaster.

"They appointed you as my second in command, in order to help me establish my army," Optimus said. "Is that _all_ they asked you to do?"

Silence fell—heavy and expectant.

Ultra Magnus met the Prime's optics and understood. This was a chance to come clean—a chance to switch sides. They were giving him an option. If he confessed everything and told them what the Council was doing, then he could join them. They could have their medic take the stupid transmitter out of his helm, and he could become an Autobot.

It was so tempting.

He shuttered his optics and lowered his helm. "Yes, Sir," he said through gritted denta. "That's all the Council asked me to do."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," Ultra Magnus couldn't bring himself to look up. "Please understand."

"I understand," Optimus said. "And I'm sorry, Ultra Magnus."

The door opened, and Ultra Magnus heard mecha walking behind him.

"I told you," Red Alert's voice said. "I told you a thousand times."

Magnus got up out of the chair and let Red Alert's guards stasis-cuff his hands behind his back.

"I told you," Red Alert said again. "And none of you listened. You all thought this was a good idea. You wanted to _trust_ him, Orion." He pointed accusingly at Ultra Magnus.

Optimus looked down.

"How dare you address the Prime with so little respect!" Magnus said.

"How dare you speak at all, you traitor!" Red Alert snapped back.

"Stop!" Orion stood. "Ironhide, Red Alert, please escort Magnus to Mirage's vaults. And please, Red Alert, try to be a little more polite to _everyone_ , all right?"

Red Alert pouted.

Ultra Magnus had no idea how they put up with that mech. Then again, he was supposedly good at his job.

They led Ultra Magnus away, and he didn't protest or resist. Knowing Optimus, he wouldn't be mistreated. The humiliating feeling of being led captive through the base was unpleasant, but he supposed he deserved it.

And more than anything else, this was a relief. He wouldn't hear or see anything useful to the Council while sitting in Mirage's vaults. In fact, as long as he was wearing stasis cuffs, they wouldn't receive data from him at all.

This would be a good opportunity to confess without the Council knowing…

But he didn't. Instead, he was silent as they escorted him to a small, secure room in one of the lower levels of Mirage's tower. They locked him inside, turning the lights off on their way out and leaving him in darkness.

* * *

Yoketron pressed the entry request and waited, rehearsing in his helm. He knew there wasn't much point to the argument he was about to have, but at the moment he was too angry to care.

The door slid open and Alpha Trion looked up at him. "Ah, Yoketron," he said. "Come in. Here to talk about Optimus's training?"

"More or less," Yoketron said and stepped inside.

"Sit down," Alpha Trion said. "More or less? What does that mean?"

"I have a question."

Alpha Trion raised an optic ridge. "I probably have an answer."

"Why did you let him get bonded?"

Silence fell.

"You could have said something. You could have _stopped_ him. But you just… let it happen, without even trying to warn him."

Alpha Trion frowned, meeting Yoketron's gaze. Yoketron refused to look away, even as the silence stretched out.

Finally, the old Prime answered "Should I have warned him?"

"Yes!" Yoketron said. "If you're so concerned about his progress, you should have at least _tried_ to prevent this. I know maybe you can't imagine the kind of emotional trauma that losing a bond will inflict on someone, but—"

"You're saying I should have _forbidden_ them from getting bonded?" Alpha Trion's gaze intensified.

Yoketron looked away. "I'm… no, I'm saying you shouldn't have let them walk into it blindly. You should have warned him that this would happen."

"And then what?" Alpha Trion said. "Would it really have changed anything? Wouldn't he be just as upset if I had told him he couldn't be bonded to this femme? What should I have said to him, Yoketron?"

Yoketron sighed. "I don't think you under—"

"I knew you'd come to complain about this at some point," Alpha Trion shook a finger at him. "But don't try to pretend you would have done differently. I didn't know he was seeing this femme until they'd already decided they wanted to be bonded. Do you really think it would have been easier if he knew? This way they got to be happy together for a little while, right?"

Yoketron stared at him.

"Your calling is to train the Prime, not whine about the rules. How is he progressing? Is he still working on the first trial?"

"Alpha Trion..."

"No," Alpha Trion said. "Whether or not you're right, it's too late to change the situation. Perhaps you could have done something about it yourself, if you hadn't been in Simfur, hiding from your responsibilities."

Yoketron looked down.

Silence stretched out for a few moments and Alpha Trion sighed. "And again... that is partly my fault. But let's get back to the subject at hand. How is the first trial going?"

Yoketron wanted to keep arguing, but he forced himself to calm down and let the subject change. "He's tried it twice. And I had to let him leave early this orn, so we'll probably try again next—"

"He's only attempted the trial twice?" Alpha Trion said. "You've been training him for half a decaorn now."

"The trials are not the only—"

"It is _absolutely imperative_ that he completes the trials as quickly as possible," Alpha Trion said.

"He will complete them as quickly as he can," Yoketron said. "He has other duties as well, and if I push him too hard—"

"He's stronger than you think," Alpha Trion said. "I tell you this every time. Push him twice as hard—he'll be fine. He's not a frightened sparkling like you seem to believe. He is Optimus Prime, the Omega Prime. His designation was written before he was sparked."

"He is a mech," Yoketron said. "He is not like you, or your siblings. This is all new to him and he needs time to come to terms with everything."

"Well he doesn't _have_ time," Alpha Trion said. "You don't seem to understand. If Primus…" Alpha Trion sighed and shook his helm. "Maybe this will motivate you. Primus is offlining."

Silence fell.

" _What?"_

"Don't spread that around," Alpha Trion said. "We don't want a panic."

"Wait," Yoketron said. "Primus can't… can't _offline._ "

"That's what I thought too," Alpha Trion said. "But some of my siblings and I went to the core and… something's wrong with him. The atmosphere there is toxic, and the core is getting dimmer. We don't know how it's happening. But the point is… the _point_ is that the Matrix of Leadership doesn't currently have a host. If Primus shuts down, the Matrix might shut down too, which would make it impossible for Optimus to receive it."

Yoketron stared at him.

"So if Optimus is not ready _before_ the core goes dark, then all is lost."

Yoketron looked down.

"Are you starting to see the urgency?"

"But… If I'd known that-"

"If _I'd_ known, then you would have been training Orion two vorns ago," Alpha Trion said. "If I'd known, I would have contacted you the moment I _found_ him."

"But…" Yoketron said. "Primus creates the energon that sustains all of Cybertron. If he offlines then we'll starve."

"Theoretically, yes," Alpha Trion said. "And while I sincerely hope that's not why Optimus is called the last Prime, we can't ignore that problem. For now though, why don't you let me worry about that, and _you_ focus on training Optimus."

Alpha Trion was often very serious, but Yoketron had never seen him look so frightened before. The idea of Primus dying was ridiculous… but Trion wouldn't joke about something like that. Could it really be true?

Yoketron nodded slowly. "I… I will do my best."


	10. Introductions

"So what do we do now?" Ironhide asked. "Tell the Council we won't work with them anymore?"

An uneasy silence settled around the table. Orion glanced at the place where Ultra Magnus usually sat. Even though the mech hadn't been with them very long, it was strange—almost wrong—for his seat to be empty.

"Well," Prowl said. "We aren't relying on the Council for much at this point, but we do need their support, because Mirage's fortune isn't going to feed an army for very long."

"Actually," Chromia said. "It could feed our _current_ army for quite a while, but that's not saying much."

The meeting had already gone long, and they were about halfway through the things they needed to decide. They'd spent a whole half a joor talking about evacuating Tarn—now that Ultra Magnus was secured in Mirage's vaults, Orion had decided to tell the other commanders about the attack there.

"That's beside the point," Prowl said. "We can't completely cut ties with the Council, at least not yet."

"But we can't let them spy on us!" Red Alert said. "I say we send someone else to talk to them this orn and say Ultra Magnus was too busy or something."

"That won't last very long," Mainspring said. "They probably already know he's compromised."

Orion took in a deep vent and sighed it out. He'd had a difficult time recharging again, despite being exhausted, and he was more than ready for this issue to be settled. "How about this? We'll send him back with the message that things aren't working out. We'll have him tell the Council that he can't be the second in command of the army any more, and that they need to come up with a different compromise."

"Will they really be willing to—"

"You can't just _let him go!_ " Red Alert said. "He _knows_ too much!"

"No," Orion said, frustration welling up inside of him. "Despite what he's done we have no right to keep him locked up. Furthermore, despite what you discovered, you had no right to put a listening device on him."

"And if I hadn't, he'd be snooping around, trying to find out how you know about Tarn," Red Alert said. "Pit, _I_ don't even know how you know about Tarn. What would you have done if he'd asked you? You trusted him, didn't you? You would have _told_ him."

"Hey!" Ironhide said.

Red Alert glared at him.

"Don't assume you're the only mech here with a working processor," Ironhide said. "Besides, this mech's our leader and he deserves respect from you, and everyone in this room. Magnus _was_ right about that."

"It's all right—"

"No it's not," Ironhide cut Orion off and turned to glare at him. "You need to be in charge."

Orion was a little taken aback by the intensity in his friend's voice.

"Thank you, Ironhide," he said, then looked around the room. Elita smiled encouragingly at him. His spark jumped a little and he had to take a few more astroseconds to remember what he'd been saying.

"I understand that letting Ultra Magnus go doesn't help us, but we cannot afford to fight the Council right now. We may have to play their game to some extent, but I will not play it their way. Red Alert, I want you to take the listening device off of Ultra Magnus, and then we're going to escort him out of the tower and let him leave."

"But…"

"Red Alert," Orion said.

Red Alert threw his hands up in the air. "Fine," he said. "Fine, we'll just let him slink back to the Council and tell them everything."

"He's probably told the Council everything he knows already," Mainspring said. "Sending him back won't hurt us. However… Prime, Sir?"

"Yes?"

"The Council are a flock of scheming, venomous pit-spawn."

Orion nodded.

"Whatever new deal they draw up, there will be something in it intended to undermine you or double-cross you. They won't give up on controlling you."

Orion nodded. "I understand that."

"I know you don't want to stoop to their level, but it may be useful to employ some countermeasures."

Orion wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. "Such as?"

"I'm sure Ironhide still has friends among the Elite Guard. Maybe even some who are willing to keep an audio out and warn us about any move the Council might make against us."

Orion looked down at the table, then glanced at Ironhide.

Ironhide shrugged. "There are probably a few mecha I could talk to about that."

Despite everything the Council had done, spying on them felt wrong. "No," Orion said. "We will consider ways to work with the Council, but I doubt any form of espionage will become necessary."

Mainspring nodded.

"If that's settled, we should move on," Prowl said. "I have an appointment in half a joor."

Primus, the orn was disappearing too quickly. Orion only had a joor and a half before he needed to go meet with Master Yoketron too.

He had a lot to do before then.

* * *

The heavy door opened slowly, with a motorized humming sound. Ultra Magnus managed to stand smoothly despite the stasis cuffs on his wrists.

Optimus Prime stepped in, and then stopped, staring. "Oh, I didn't realize… Red Alert, you shouldn't have left the stasis cuffs on him. Here." He entered the small, vault-like room, but Ultra Magnus took a step away from him.

"Prime, Sir, don't take the cuffs off of me."

Optimus hesitated with a concerned frown. "Why? That can't be comfortable."

"I am fine." Ultra Magnus said. There hadn't been a comfortable position for him to recharge in, so he was tired, but the cuffs were on a low setting—not enough to be very painful even after a whole off-cycle wearing them. "But if you remove the cuffs I will be able to contact the Council."

He shouldn't have said that. In fact, if he was really trying to keep his oath, he should be attempting to talk Optimus _into_ taking the cuffs off.

Optimus met his optics solemnly. "Very well. Come out in the hall."

Ultra Magnus stepped out of the makeshift prison cell into the hallway, where Red Alert and a couple of his security guards were standing.

Red Alert scowled at him.

"Red Alert?" Optimus said with expectant undertones in his voice.

The security mech sighed. "I suppose I should apologize," he said. "I put a listening device on you—that's how we knew you were spying on us for the Council. I'll take it off now, if you'll turn around."

Ultra Magnus hesitated, then turned. He forced himself not to flinch when he felt something pried off of his back.

"There," Red Alert said. "Hope you're fragging happy, Optimus."

"Let's go," the Prime said.

Ultra Magnus turned again, and followed them down the hall.

"So," Optimus said. "We don't want to keep you imprisoned here, so we're going to let you go. We would like you to tell the Council that this arrangement—with you as my second in command—isn't working out and that they'll have to come up with something else if they want a part in the army. Maybe we can negotiate making use of their resources in some other way."

Ultra Magnus looked down.

They were sending him back to the Council. He doubted that the Prime knew what that meant. Ultra Magnus had _failed_ them, so being returned to them was practically a death sentence.

After the Autobots had locked him up, he had hoped…

But he was no use to them, anyway—not with his oath and the transmitter in his helm. This was probably for the best.

They reached an elevator—this one smaller than the main one. Optimus stepped inside, then gestured for Ultra Magnus to join him. Red Alert and his guards followed.

Ultra Magnus's tanks lurched as they started going down.

He was going to have to go back to the Council. What if they actually _did_ decide to have him executed for his failure? He would never have worried about that before. They had trusted him completely, up until this mission.

Of course, before they'd asked him to spy on the Autobots, it had been easier to turn a blind optic to everything they did.

He really was pathetic.

"Ultra Magnus?" Optimus said quietly.

He didn't want to meet the Prime's optics. "I apologize," he said.

"It's all right," Optimus said. "I understand that you want to keep your oath—that's an honorable desire. If you are ever released from it, we would welcome you back."

Ultra Magnus didn't look up. "If I am ever released from it, I would gladly join you."

It was a nice sentiment. This mech really didn't understand, did he?

The Council never let go of anything.

They rode the elevator in silence until it finally came to a stop. Red Alert led the way out a side door and into the street, then got out a key for Ultra Magnus's stasis cuffs.

"Optimus?" Ultra Magnus said.

"Yes?"

"Good luck."

Optimus nodded, and then the stasis cuffs came off. Ultra Magnus rolled his stiff shoulders, trying not to grimace.

Then he transformed and drove down the street, headed to the Council Hall to meet his fate.

* * *

Mirage drove silently through the dark, empty streets of Tarn. Apparently, the Council here had initiated a curfew a few decaorns before, and so Mirage could actually drive invisible without worrying about anyone accidentally crashing into him. His mod kept his engine silent, and so the loudest sound came from the mech he was following.

He'd spent the entire orn wandering around, listening for mecha who spoke out against the Decepticons, eavesdropping on oilhouse conversations, and following anyone who looked like they might know anything interesting. And it had all come to nothing.

Then Mainspring had commed him with the designation of an enforcer who was supposedly going behind the Council's back, trying to help mecha prepare for the imminent attack. Mirage wasn't sure exactly _how_ Mainspring had gotten his information, but it was more than a little annoying to spend a whole orn trying to figure something out and then have it handed to you.

So now he was playing errand mech instead of acting as an actual spy.

The profession was significantly less glamorous than he'd presumed.

Of course, a lot of things were like that.

Blurr still thought he was crazy for giving everything he had to the Autobots.

Sometimes Mirage agreed with that sentiment. Especially since it meant he now relied on the Prime for his own survival.

But he couldn't go back.

And if the Autobots lost, well… Mirage didn't think Megatron would treat the noble class kindly in any case, so he might as well do everything he could to prevent the gladiator from taking over the world.

The enforcer slowed down, and then turned off the street onto the walkway. Mirage stopped as well, watching in the silence. He was fairly certain this was the right mech, but until he was absolutely sure, he would stay cloaked.

It was a good thing Mainspring had found an enforcer for him to talk to, because no one else would be out past curfew like this.

The mech transformed into root mode and walked toward a group of tall buildings. Mirage transformed as well and followed him, jogging to make sure he didn't get left behind. They went down an alleyway and then the enforcer stepped through an open doorway into a dark, narrow hall that smelled of rust.

Mirage sighed silently and followed, trying to ignore the scent. For Primus' sake, why did anyone let buildings like this get so old and corroded? They should either keep them clean or knock them down and rebuild.

The enforcer's pedes on the floor echoed off the walls, until they reached the end of the hall, and went down a set of stairs that screeched and groaned under their weight. Mirage made sure to follow closely behind the mech as they descended—while his mod would mask the sound of his pedes hitting the ground, it wouldn't be able to keep the whole stairway from screeching.

At the base of the stairs, the enforcer stopped. His optics illuminated the wall and Mirage watched and listened as he fumbled until he found a button that turned on the lights.

They were in a small basement room piled with rusty, empty-looking crates. Several doors and passageways led off in different directions, but the enforcer didn't move to go down any of them. Instead, he went over to a crate and sat.

He looked old, though Mirage wouldn't have been able to tell at a glance. His blue paint—just a tinge grayer than Mirage's—wasn't scratched, and he still moved with agility, but there was something tired about his optics.

Mirage crossed his arms and waited for something to happen. He leaned on the rust-eaten wall for a moment, but then thought better of it and pushed away.—the place was disgusting. He hoped this mech didn't intend to just _sit_ here all off-cycle.

The enforcer tapped a pede on the ground, glancing down one of the passages every few breems. Then he seemed to lose patience and put a finger to his comm.

"Mechling," he said. "Where the pit are you?"

His voice sounded old too—tinny and with a hint of static in it. Mirage didn't hear the response, but the old enforcer heaved a sigh.

"Fine, but hurry up. I want to check out that cave Clampdown was talking about. If it's as defensible as he says it is… yeah, that's why I want to _look_ at it. Just get your aft over here… thank you."

He cut the comm and shook his helm, then put his faceplate in his hands, muttering to himself.

"Primus, how'd I end up with this rookie right when all this Decepticon slag… I don't know what I'm doing. We can't live in a fragging cave. We can't cross the wastes... I guess we could, and we'd have to hope we find an energon spring out there before we all starve… right…"

Mirage raised an optic ridge. The likelihood of a large group of mecha surviving the expanse between city-states was fairly low. The main highways surrounding Tarn were cut off, so their best bet would probably be to travel southeast until they got to the highway that led from Slaughter City to Simfur. That distance didn't look too bad on a map, but there were some alt modes that wouldn't do well on the rough terrain between city-states. On pede, the trip could take six or seven decaorns, maybe twice that long if you had to navigate through the underground cave systems.

Fortunately for this mech, things were about to take a turn for the better.

Mirage turned his mod off, but the mech's faceplate was still buried in his hands and he didn't look up.

"Excuse me," Mirage said.

The enforcer jumped off of the crate he was sitting on with a quiet yelp, and his hands shifted into guns. "Slag it!... who the pit are you?"

Mirage crossed his arms.

"Sorry, you startled me," the mech shifted the guns back into hands but watched him warily. "You lost, mech? What are you doing out past curfew?"

"You're Autoceptor, correct?" Mirage said.

The enforcer narrowed his optics. "Iacon," he muttered. "You sound like an Iaconian noble."

"Very good," Mirage said. "That is exactly what I am—in a manner of speaking. I'm here as a representative of the Autobots. Are you familiar with them?"

The mech shifted his weight a little and raised his hands like he was about to get his guns out again. "The Iacon Council's puppet army?"

Mirage snorted. "Hardly," he said. "We have to work with them sometimes, but we certainly don't answer to them. For example, from what I've heard, the Council decided to leave Tarn to its fate—didn't even bother to tell the Prime that the city was in trouble."

He narrowed his optics. "Then how do you know about it?"

"As I said, we don't belong to the Council. We have our own sources of information."

"Why are you here?"

"There's no reason to be hostile," Mirage said. "I was sent here to talk to you—to offer the Prime's assistance in helping those mecha who _don't_ want the Decepticons to take over."

That didn't seem to appease him. "You think you can save Tarn?" he raised an optic ridge.

"No," Mirage said. "When Megatron attacks, he will take the city. But we can help you in other ways."

"How did you find me here?"

"I followed you."

"No," Autoceptor shook his helm. "I would have noticed you. How did you know I was going to be here?"

"Look, do you want our help or not?"

"You think I'm going to trust you?" the enforcer said. "You _really_ think I'm going to trust some random noblemech who shows up out of nowhere and says the Council's pet Prime wants to help me? And what's this _help_ of yours going to cost?"

"Must everything have a cost?"

"Usually does," the mech said. "And I'm broke. So you can either slink back wherever you came from or tell me how you found me here."

Mirage sighed. "I _did_ follow you," he said. "And if you hear me out, then I'll show you how I did it when I leave."

Autoceptor scowled.

"We want to help you evacuate mecha from the city," Mirage said. "You don't have time to ferry anyone through the wastes. We've recently received information that leads us to believe a Decepticon attack is more imminent than you might think. In fact, it would be best if we could evacuate everyone who wants to leave before the end of the decaorn."

The mech's optics widened and concern crept into his expression. "Exactly _how_ imminent is this attack?"

"I can't say," Mirage said. They had seven orns left, but he wasn't authorized to tell anyone that, especially someone who might spread it all over the city.

He let Autoceptor consider that for a few astroseconds.

The enforcer lowered his arms, but didn't look away from Mirage for a moment. "How do you intend to evacuate everyone? And where exactly would they be going?"

"They'll be groundbridging to Nova Cronum," Mirage said.

"You can't legally bridge anywhere but from a station to another station."

"Under certain, emergency circumstances, it is permissible," Mirage said. "And we're pretty sure we can get the go-ahead from Nova Cronum's enforcement department. Of course, we obviously won't be asking the Tarn Council's permission to open a bridge inside their city limits, but I don't know that that's something you should be worried about. We can get your mecha to safety. Are you really going to turn that down?"

"You still haven't told me what it's going to cost."

Mirage sighed. "It's not like they'll make you pay tribute or anything. Obviously, you and anyone who comes will lose their homes, and you'll be at the mercy of the Nova Cronum Council. But other than that, this is a free ticket to safety. If you don't believe _me_ , we might be able to arrange transport for you to Iacon, where you can talk to Optimus personally about it."

Mirage wasn't actually sure if they could do that. After all, he was the only one who could use his private bridge, because it was attuned specifically to his spark chamber. But he could talk to Mainspring and see if they could find a way.

Autoceptor stared at him.

"What?" Mirage said.

"This is… this can't be real."

"If you need a little time to think about it, I can give you a few joors, but you really don't have long to decide. Reportedly, you're the best contact point for mecha who don't support the Decepticons, but if you won't accept our help, we _can_ try to find someone else."

The mech sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll think about it and let you know in a couple of joors. You want to give me some way to contact you?"

Mirage nodded. "You have something I can write my comm. codes on?"

The mech pulled a datapad from subspace and handed it to Mirage, still watching him warily. Mirage took the datapad, inputted his codes, and handed it back. This mech had some paranoia issues—then again, from what Mirage had seen of the city, it was a rough place.

"Now," Mirage said. "I'll let you get back to waiting for… whoever you were waiting for. And I'll show you how I followed you on my way out. You'll probably hear me on the stairs."

The mech narrowed his optics.

Mirage activated his mod and watched as Autoceptor stiffened, optics widening.

With a smirk, Mirage turned to cross the room and climb the creaky stairs. He couldn't wait to get out of here—he was going to smell like rust for orns. They would have to arrange a better place to talk next time if this mech decided to accept their help.

* * *

Orion was about to get up and leave to meet Master Yoketron when there was an entry request at his office door.

"Come in!" he called. He hoped this wasn't more bad news, or something he needed to do. Landquake was probably already waiting for him at the base of the tower.

The door slid open and Elita came in.

Orion stood. "Elita. I… was about to go. I have to see Master Yoketron… But if you need to talk about something..."

"I don't want to make you late," she said. "I'll walk you out, though."

He stepped past her and she followed him out the door, then kept pace with him as they headed down the hall toward the main elevator.

"I'm proud of you." Elita said. "For standing up for yourself in that meeting, and saying no to Red Alert and Mainspring."

"I hope I didn't go too far..."

"You didn't," Elita shook her helm. "We need you to be like that. We need you to make decisions even when we don't all agree with you."

Orion nodded slightly.

"But…" Elita said. "But in all that, don't lose _you_ , all right?"

Orion was silent. They stepped into the elevator.

"We still need Orion." Elita said. "We need Optimus Prime, but we need that honest, good-sparked, naïve archivist that I fell in love with too."

Orion shook his helm. He couldn't make any promises about that.

"What?"

"Nothing." Orion sighed.

She frowned at him.

"I can't say… I can't say what the future holds, Elita."

That seemed to trouble her and she was quiet for a few astroseconds. Then she vented a sigh. "I'm glad you're learning to fight," she said.

"Yes," Orion agreed, grateful for the subject change. "I don't know how I'd do in an actual fight, because that archivist in me might come out..."

"No, you'll learn," Elita assured him. "Ironhide and his friends are teaching my sisters and I how to fight too. Maybe you and I could spar sometime."

Orion shrugged.

"That idea makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?" Elita asked.

"A little."

She smiled, but then looked down and her next words were subdued. "I wouldn't have needed to ask that three quartexes ago… has it only been that long?"

Orion nodded.

The elevator stopped and they stepped out, then crossed the entry room to the front doors of the tower.

As he had suspected, Landquake was already waiting for him. The transport's door opened as they approached and Prowl stepped out.

Wasn't he supposed to be waiting at Landquake's place so they could train together?

Prowl must have seen the question in Orion's expression. "Yoketron wanted more time with you this orn, since we were interrupted last orn," he said.

Oh.

"Well," Elita said as Prowl walked toward the tower. "I guess I'll let you go then,"

Yoketron stepped out of the transport.

"Master Yoketron," Orion bowed slightly. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "Except that you are half a breem late."

"I know," Orion said. "I apologize."

"Accepted," Yoketron said. "And I merely accompanied Prowl here because we were out of time and I had a few more things I wanted to say to him." He turned his attention to Elita. "I believe I've seen you before, though I don't think we've been introduced."

"Elita," she held out a hand and he shook it politely. "Elita One."

"Ah, yes. It is good to meet you. I had the pleasure of meeting your sister last orn, and she mentioned you."

"Oh," Elita said, glancing at Orion. "She did?"

"Yes," Yoketron said, looking thoughtful.

"Well, it's good to meet you too," Elita said. "Thank you for what you're doing."

"I am honored to train the Prime," Yoketron bowed slightly.

"Well," Elita said. "If there's anything the Autobots can do for you in return, let us know."

"Thank you," Yoketron said solemnly. "I have everything I need at the moment, but for my services, I may ask you all to save the world once or twice in the future."

Elita stared at him for a few astroseconds, as if she wasn't sure whether he was joking. Orion would have been tempted to smile if he didn't suspect Yoketron was dead serious.

Eventually, Elita shrugged, then she put a hand on Orion's arm and shot him a quick smile. "I'll see you later. Good luck."

He watched her walk back into the tower, and then climbed into the transport. Yoketron climbed in after him and Landquake's door closed.

They were quiet for a breem as the transport made its way down the road.

"So," Yoketron said. "That's the femme you were bonded to?"

Orion nodded.

"I am _very_ sorry about that," Yoketron said. "Alpha Trion should have said something to warn you."

"I didn't even notice," Orion admitted quietly. "When I was appointed… I felt something change, but I was so shocked I didn't even realize the bond had broken until I went back to Mirage's tower. It didn't even hurt… but it hurt her."

He couldn't meet Yoketron's optics.

"I wish I could make things right for her somehow," he said.

Silence fell.

"I suppose that's not the most pressing problem at the moment, but…"

"It's an understandable thing to be upset about," Yoketron said. "Even among all of your other difficulties."

"Do you know… will I…" He didn't want to ask.

"What?"

"When I receive the Matrix… will I stop loving her?"

Yoketron looked sorrowful.

Orion's spark sank.

"No," Yoketron said. "No, you'll still love her. You might both wish you didn't sometimes, but no, receiving the Matrix won't change that."

Orion vented a sigh of relief, but then realized he wasn't sure how he felt about it after all.

Landquake rolled to a stop outside of his apartment building.

"Let's see if you can get through that trial this orn," Yoketron said.

Orion nodded, and followed him out of the transport.

* * *

Ratchet stood at the base of the ramp leading up to the big double-doors of the hospital. It was the closest one to their makeshift base, and the director had said she was willing to talk about helping them.

Not willing to _help_ them, just willing to talk about it.

He wished he'd gotten up the courage to ask Elita to come and talk for him. He wasn't very good at negotiating things.

But he couldn't miss this appointment.

He took in a deep vent and walked up the ramp and through the doors, which opened when he approached.

The main entrance of the hospital wasn't exactly crowded, but there were mecha coming and going, and there was a short line at the receptionist's desk. He got in line, looking around at the smooth, sterile walls and automatic doors. He'd never intended to work in an actual hospital. He'd been much more interested in the research side of things.

It didn't matter anyway, because he'd had to drop out of school.

He got to the front far too quickly.

"Hi!" The receptionist said in a bright, overly cheerful voice. "Can I help you?"

"Um…" he said. "Yes, I… I have an appointment with the director of the hospital."

"Oh," the femme's optic ridges shot up. "Ok, let me comm. her and see. It might take her a few breems to get back to me, so can you wait over there?"

She gestured to some benches by the wall where a few mecha were sitting.

Ratchet nodded mutely and left the line.

He sat on the nearest bench, next to a mech with a broken arm. He surveyed the injury, analyzing it, running through the necessary repairs and potential complications in his helm until the mech noticed him staring, and shot him a suspicious frown. Ratchet forced himself to look away. He itched to scan the mech's arm and maybe offer to help with it. But that would be a bad idea.

As the breems ticked by, it got harder and harder to avoid looking at the injury. It wasn't that bad—it would only take a few breems to repair. Why was this mech being forced to wait here, when he was almost certainly in pain? Didn't they have anyone who could see him?

Ratchet was about to say something to him when he stood up and met a femme coming from the front of the receptionist's line.

"She said we can go in to the waiting room," the femme said.

Ratchet watched them leave through a nearby door, relieved, but still concerned. They had to wait to get into a waiting room in the first place?

Of course, he wasn't really sure how hospitals worked anyway.

He glanced at the receptionist, and she beckoned to him, so he got up and crossed the room again.

"Okay," she said. "So… the director can't meet with you. She's too busy right now."

Ratchet's spark sank. "But… I have—"

"It's okay," the receptionist said. "Because I just remembered the _assistant_ director sent me a memo earlier this orn saying _he_ wanted to talk to you if she couldn't."

"Oh," Ratchet said. "All right."

"He should be in his office. It's through the south door, down the hall, first left, and then the third door on the right. Got it?"

Ratchet nodded.

"Okay," the receptionist said. "Thank you."

He nodded again, and she smiled and moved on to the next mech in line.

Ratchet replayed her instructions through his helm as he walked to the door he was pretty sure she was talking about.

The hallway was long, and the first left didn't happen for quite a while, but then Ratchet found the right office door without any trouble. He read the glyphs on it, taking in a deep vent. Assistant director, _and_ head surgeon.

This mech was probably very busy, _and_ an accomplished medic. Ratchet hoped this mech didn't ask too many difficult technical questions. He still studied whenever he had time, but he was probably never going to be a fully-qualified medic in any sense of the term.

He pressed the entry request and waited.

After a few astroseconds a blue, white and red mech opened the door.

"Good orn," he said mildly. "Can I help you?"

"Well, um…" Ratchet said. "The…"

"Oh!" the mech said. "Ratchet, right?"

Ratchet blinked. "I… yes, actually."

"Come in, come in," the mech said, backing away from the door and gesturing smoothly for Ratchet to enter his office. "I've wanted to meet you for ages."

Ratchet frowned as he entered the office. "You… have?"

"Of course," the mech said with a warm smile. "You're that student. The one who developed the cure for type alpha-gamma parasitic microbots, right?"

Oh.

"Yes," Ratchet said, feeling suddenly more confident. "Yes, that's me."

"Very impressive," the medic sat down in his swiveling chair and gestured for Ratchet to sit on a small stool by the wall. "I was very impressed. You know, if you ever need an internship, I'm sure I could arrange something here..."

"Well…" Ratchet looked down. "I dropped out of school. I didn't have a choice, but… I don't think I'll have time to go back."

"Huh," the medic said. "Well, I'm sure we can fix that somehow."

Ratchet looked up again.

"So—" the mech said.

"Actually," Ratchet cut in. "I've come here in behalf of the Autobots, about our soldiers…"

"Right," the medic said. "I've heard your army's not in very good shape at the moment. Primus, you're probably stressed out of your processor. Don't worry—we can help. We're a little busy this orn, but I've already got mecha in mind who I think will have some time over the next few orns to help you with check-ups. _And_ I can get you in touch with medics who are looking for jobs who might be willing to work for the Autobots full time."

"Thank you," Ratchet said, feeling stunned. He had _not_ expected this mech to be so helpful.

"Don't mention it," the medic said. "You know, I always sympathized with your organization, even before the whole fiasco with Megatron leaving… oh, I haven't even introduced myself yet. I always forget. I'm Pharma. Again, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you," Ratchet said.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Oh noes! It's Pharma. D:

2\. From this point forward, most of the characters I introduce will be at least loosely based on canon characters (except for femmes—there aren't enough canon femmes, so I'll probably have to invent a few here and there.)

3\. In any case, this means you can blame all of the terrible names I use in the future on transformers canon. Like Autoceptor. What does that even mean?

4\. That is all. Thanks for reading!


	11. Allegiance

"We aren't entirely sure what to do with you yet," Halogen said, leaning forward to stare over his podium at Ultra Magnus.

Ultra Magnus met the Grand Councilmech's optics. For some reason, standing here on the Council floor was a lot less frightening than he had expected it to be.

Halogen continued. "You allowed the Autobots to discover you. What was it that tipped them off? Did they tell you?"

Ultra Magnus didn't look away. "They planted a listening device on me, Sir."

"Hmm," Halogen said.

"I accept full responsibility for the fact that I didn't notice." Ultra Magnus watched the Grand Councilmech's faceplate carefully, searching for any hints about his fate.

After he had come to them and reported, they'd had him locked up and he had had joors to wonder whether he'd live out the orn or not. He was tired of wondering.

"You accept full responsibility," Halogen said. "But that is not the same as an apology. You are not regretful. You do not wish you could have prevented this?"

No. In his spark, Ultra Magnus was grateful for what Red Alert had done.

"Answer me, guardsmech."

"No, Sir," Ultra Magnus said. "I do not. However, you know that I serve you and would never disobey your orders."

"Never?" Halogen said. "There is nothing I could ask that you would refuse to do?"

Ultra Magnus hesitated.

"See," Halogen said. "You claim to be loyal, but I think you're slipping. How long will it be until you betray us? You are not loyal to us in your spark."

"Can you name one mech who is?" Ultra Magnus asked. "With all due respect, Sir, it is very difficult to be loyal to your corrupt conspiracy."

Halogen narrowed his optics. "By the Allspark," he said. "A conspiracy? Did you actually just _insult_ us? I'm impressed, Ultra Magnus. I didn't think you had it in you."

Ultra Magnus looked down in shame, running his vents faster as his systems heated up.

"I don't think we need anything else from you," Halogen said. "Since you very willingly confessed your guilt just now. Guards, remove him."

"Wait!" Ultra Magnus said as he heard the guards approach from behind. "What are you going to do with me?"

Halogen smirked. "We haven't decided yet. Take him away."

* * *

"…But we shouldn't be—"

"We don't have a _choice,_ Autoceptor," Clampdown said. "If they've offered their help…"

"Hey, keep it down," Deep Cover glanced over his shoulder at the open end of the alleyway.

It was the middle of the off-cycle, and Autoceptor didn't think anyone was going to overhear the four enforcers talking. "Look, you're the one who wanted to stay and fight."

"But this is a better option," Clampdown said. "Staying and fighting was about as good as trying to cross the wastes on pede. But we have an actual chance if the Autobots are going to help us."

"Can we keep it down, _please_?" Deep Cover repeated. "Maybe we should have this conversation some other time. The four of us are supposed to be on patrol in different quadrants right now anyway."

"Actually," Kaltor put in. "The old mech and I are supposed to report in for the off-cycle soon."

"And we have to make a decision about this," Autoceptor said. "That noblemech didn't give me very long to respond."

"Well then let's make a decision," Deep Cover said. "Autoceptor's against, Clampdown's for. Kaltor, what do you think?"

"He doesn't get to vote," Autoceptor said.

"Hey," Kaltor crossed his arms.

"He's a smart mechling," Clampdown said. "I vote that he gets a vote."

Deep Cover and Autoceptor both glared at him.

"Ok," Kaltor said. "I don't care if I get to vote. But… here's the question. If things go badly, which choice will we regret more?"

Autoceptor looked down.

He didn't want to trust the noblemech, and he especially didn't want to trust the Prime.

But their other option might include watching mechlings starve in the wastes.

"Either way," Clampdown said. "We're running out of time before the Decepticons attack. You say the Iaconian suggested it would be within a decaorn?"

Autoceptor nodded.

Deep Cover took in a deep vent, shuttering his optics. "All right. I'll break the tie. We're going to trust the Autobots. 'Ceptor?"

"All right," Autoceptor said. He had known, deep down, that they had to. All of their other options were even worse.

"Go meet with him again," Deep Cover said. "Clampdown and I will start getting the word out."

Autoceptor nodded.

Clampdown and Deep Cover transformed and drove away. Autoceptor watched the brothers exit the alleyway and drive in different directions.

"I'm interested to meet this noblemech," Kaltor said.

"Well, you aren't going to," Autoceptor growled. "Not this off-cycle, at least. I need you to go to the station and tell them I went home. Say I dislocated an axle or something and quit early."

The younger mech sighed. "All right."

"Don't be so disappointed, I bet you'll be seeing plenty of Autobots in the future." Autoceptor transformed and followed his old friends out of the alley. He commed Mirage, who answered immediately.

" _Finally come to your senses?"_ Even his simulated voice sounded haughty.

" _Something like that,"_ Autoceptor replied. _"Where do you want to meet?"_

* * *

Silverbolt tried not to stare at the sorry-looking mech with the rusty leg, who was standing in front of him in line. Every step looked painful, and he was leaving behind little rust flakes wherever his bad pede touched the ground.

So even though being invited to a five-way comm. by Air Raid—who was standing right behind him and could have talked out loud—was mildly annoying, Silverbolt was glad for the distraction. He joined the comm. channel, bracing himself for another argument.

" _What is it?"_ Slingshot asked.

" _Do you mechs feel like we're out of place here?"_

" _Out of place?"_ Slingshot said. _"Like we missed a memo that only half-dead groundpounders are supposed to sign up for this army? Yeah."_

" _I still don't think this is a really good idea, 'Bolt. It's not too late to back out."_

" _We already signed up,"_ Silverbolt said. _"We can't just desert."_

" _It looks like they're going to need all the help they can get,"_ Skydive said. _"I know you want to go home Air Raid, and no one's stopping you, but…"_

" _I want to go home too,"_ Slingshot said. _"I left more mecha behind than you did, 'Raid. But you remember what Megatron did in Kaon? We can't let that spread."_

" _I don't see why it's our responsibility to stop it,"_ Air Raid said. _"And it's different for you. Dawn is still angry at me for leaving."_

" _Hey,"_ Skydive cut in. _"Where did Fireflight go?"_

Silverbolt turned to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, there were only three seekers in line behind him.

" _Sorry!"_ Fireflight said. _"The line was taking a long time, so I left and now I'm… somewhere."_

" _Well we're almost to the front of the line now,"_ Silverbolt said. _"Can you come back?"_

" _Yeah,"_ Fireflight said. _"Hang on, I have to fly up high enough to see if I can figure out where you are."_

" _The line's moving, 'Bolt,"_ Slingshot said.

Silverbolt turned around again and stepped forward. The mech with the rusty leg was the only one in front of them now.

" _Air Raid,"_ Silverbolt said. _"If you really want to leave, you can leave. Your responsibility to your sparkmate is more important than your responsibility to Slingshot and I."_

" _I am not letting you mechs join this army without me."_

" _Then stop complaining about it,"_ Slingshot said. _"It rusts, ok? Like that mech in front of us. The end."_

The mech with the rusty leg hobbled away and Silverbolt stepped forward.

"Hi!" the Autobot standing by the table said. "I'm Dion. You're Silverbolt, right? They told me about you signing up."

"Yes," Silverbolt said.

"Aren't there supposed to be… five of you?"

"Yes," Silverbolt said. "One of my friends wandered off."

"Okay," Dion said. "Um... we've got to keep the line moving, so you'll just have to pass everything on to him. Here." He shuffled through key cards on the table. "We already have one seeker trine here. You'll be up on the top floor with them. The apartments are a little more spacious up there, so hopefully they'll be all right for you."

Of course they'd be up on the top floor.

"And," Dion said. "I've heard seekers don't really like elevators, so we've made sure the roof access door is unlocked. You can get in that way. Here are your key cards, you've got two apartments to share between the five of you for now, but if it gets more crowded, you might need to move to one." He handed Silverbolt five key cards. "There's a warehouse a block south of the apartment building where you can get energon if you need it. And… you mechs don't look like you need medical attention, so I guess we don't have to worry about that part. Um…"

Slingshot stepped forward. "When do we start training?"

"We'll keep you posted about that," Dion said. "It might be a couple more orns. We've got to get everything organized first."

"So do we have to stay here?" Air Raid said. "Or can we just come back when you're actually ready for us?"

"We would… like you to stay here?" Dion said. "You can ask for permission to leave, though. I think Commander Ironhide is in charge of that… I'll ask next time I see him."

By the time he asked, it would probably be too late for them to take a trip to Vos. But Silverbolt cut Air Raid off before he could say anything else. "Thank you. We won't hold up the line any longer."

"Ok. Let us know if you have any questions. There'll be datapads in your apartment with some more information. Have a good orn."

"Thank you," Silverbolt said. "You too." He turned and walked away, followed by his brothers and Skydive.

" _If you can call Iacon's eternal dusk an orn,"_ Slingshot said over the still-open comm. channel.

" _Now who's complaining?"_ Air Raid muttered.

" _Okay,"_ Fireflight said. _"I have no idea where you are."_

" _Where are you?"_ Silverbolt asked. _"Send us your coordinates and someone will come find you."_

" _Or you could just send me your coordinates."_

" _So you can forget them?"_ Slingshot said.

" _I'll go get him,"_ Air Raid said. _"The rest of you can check out the apartments. Fireflight, just send us your coordinates."_

" _Wait_ _,"_ Fireflight said. _"I can see the apartment building. I'll meet you mechs on the roof there."_

Silverbolt looked up at the dizzyingly tall building that was to be their new home.

"There he is," Skydive said, and Silverbolt followed his gaze. Sure enough, he could just barely make out the seeker against the dark blue sky.

"So..." Slingshot said. "We going to fly up there?"

"Go ahead," Silverbolt said, stopping to hand all but one of the key cards to Air Raid. "I'll take the stairs. I might be a while."

"See you up there." Air Raid said, and took off. Skydive followed him, but Slingshot stayed behind, arms crossed.

"What?" Silverbolt asked.

"You know they're going to expect you to fly,"

"And I will," Silverbolt said. "Whenever I have to."

"Okay," Slingshot shrugged. He transformed and took off after the others, leaving Silverbolt to walk toward the apartment building with the shuffling crowd of rust-afflicted factory mecha.

* * *

Prowl came online with a start.

Where was he? This wasn't his room…

This was his office. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair to finish letting his systems boot up. He'd slipped into recharge while working hadn't he?

He checked his chronometer. Primus, the early meeting was in ten breems, and he needed to prepare for that. He and Mainspring had both been busy all the orn before and late into the off-cycle working on logistics for the Tarn evacuation. They'd been in contact with mecha from almost every single sector and Prowl had needed to plan routes for all of them. He was sick of staring at underground cave systems and sending messages back and forth through that arrogant noblemech.

It didn't help that Tarn was in the exact opposite time zone. _That_ was utter nonsense because Iacon was on the north pole, and its on-cycle/off-cycle pattern was manufactured by the sun dome. Iacon's neighboring city-state, Nova Cronum, was on the same time as Tarn.

Prowl took in a deep vent and straightened a few datapads on his desk.

They only had six more orns.

Megatron would attack in six orns.

It was the off-cycle in Tarn now. They'd start evacuating as soon as curfew was over the next orn. Everything was in place. And if everything went according to plan, then they'd get more than a hundred thousand mecha out of the city-state.

But if anything went wrong, there wouldn't be time for a second try.

Across thirty-seven sectors, _something_ was bound to go wrong.

Prowl shook his helm and checked his datapad for messages. There were more than twenty, so he skimmed through them as quickly as he could and headed to the meeting.

Mainspring looked almost as exhausted as Prowl felt, and Orion looked tired as well. He had been up for at least some of the off-cycle, talking to various mecha in Tarn.

This off-cycle would be busy too.

But then after that, things would hopefully calm down.

The meeting went long as usual, but at least things were going smoothly. Ratchet had made contact with some more medics, Elita and Chromia had gotten their entire army situated in an apartment building, and recruitment had picked up a little. But things were still moving too slowly. According to Mainspring's latest reports, Megatron's army was still growing rapidly.

When the meeting was over, Prowl returned to his office. He only had fifteen breems before he needed to leave. At least training with Master Yoketron never went long.

He checked his messages again. There were five new ones. One of them had been moved to the top by his message system and marked as important.

It was from Jazz.

Prowl forwarded it to Mainspring, and then opened it and read through.

It contained new statistics about Megatron's army—there were even _more_ Decepticons than Mainspring's other sources had suggested. There was also another message about Megatron planning to attack Tarn in six orns. Then Jazz made note of some of the weaknesses in Megatron's army, which would be useful if Prowl were planning on attacking them.

Attacking them wasn't an option at this point.

Prowl got to the last paragraph.

[Finally, there's a favor I'd like to ask. This isn't important to the war effort, but can you contact a mech designated Yoketron and pass on a message to him? He's a circuit-su instructor, and last I heard he was working in Kalis. I want him to know that there's a prisoner of the Decepticons designated Kup who says they're friends. Apparently he thought Yoketron would be in Kaon, but he was wrong, and he's in trouble now. I figured Yoketron might want to know about that. Thanks! Good luck with the whole Tarn thing. I hope you've got that figured out.]

Prowl re-read the paragraph. _Jazz_ knew Yoketron?

That was certainly unexpected.

Well, Prowl was supposed to report to Yoketron soon anyway. He might as well show up early for a change. He looked through his lists of things to do, just to make sure there was nothing urgent, and then got up and left his office.

On the way down in the elevator, he ran some quick calculations in his helm, and realized there was a better route for the evacuees in one of the city-states. He sent a quick message to Mainspring about it before he got to the bottom floor. Then, he realized ee'd need to be quick in order to get to Landquake's apartment before the transport left to pick him up, so he didn't waste any time in leaving the tower, transforming and driving through the city.

He knocked on the apartment door and Landquake opened it, carrying his enormous sparkling in his arms.

"Oh, hey," he said. "I was about to go get you."

"Well, I'm glad I arrived before you left," Prowl said. "I have something to discuss with Master Yoketron and I didn't want to waste any training time on it, so I decided to come early."

"Well, he's in the courtyard. Head on back there."

"Thank you," Prowl said, and slipped past the enormous mech.

"You don't have to go yet?" the sparkling asked cheerfully.

"That's right," Landquake said.

Prowl walked out through the back door and down the long hallway to the crystal garden courtyard.

Then he froze.

The atmosphere was filled with shards of crystal, arrayed in a spherical pattern that spun gently as the crystals shifted and wove around each other. Master Yoketron stood in the middle of the pattern, one hand raised. Prowls optic's widened. This was impossible—the pieces of crystal were _floating_. Was this some sort of complicated, beautiful hologram? Yoketron shifted, stepping forward and bringing his hand in. The pattern changed, spinning more quickly, then flattened into a shifting disc. Prowl watched as the disk spread vertically into a column, where it froze, making a tall cylinder around the circuit-su master.

Everything was perfectly still and somehow, that broke the spell on Prowl. He stepped into the courtyard, then slowly reached out to touch one of the crystals. It fell into his hand—solid, real. He stared at it as it lay in his palm for a moment, then rose into the atmosphere again and joined the rest of the crystals as they floated down and came to rest in the ground.

Only then did he realize they were pieces of the crystal tiles that made up the floor of the courtyard.

Primus…

Master Yoketron turned to face him.

"What… was that?" Prowl asked.

Master Yoketron smiled. "That, Prowl, was processor over matter. Of course, the name isn't necessarily accurate. It involves your spark at least as much as your processor."

"But…"

"So the name really ought to be spark _and_ processor over matter, but that doesn't sound very good. Come to think of it, processor over matter is a bit of a mouthful too. So I suppose it doesn't really matter." He smirked.

"Could you… teach me that?"

Master Yoketron shot him an incredulous, almost shocked look. "Why would you want to learn something like that? It is not very practical."

"What do you mean?" Prowl's processor was already calculating the advantages that sort of skill would give you. "You… levitated those crystals. Can you imagine what you'd be able to do with that? How far can it reach? Can you make yourself float? Can you use it to pull something from someone else's—"

"Stop," Master Yoketron said mildly. "Before you get too excited, you should know that processor over matter cannot be used for violence, or even every-orn purposes. If it could, then don't you think more mecha would know about it? Yes, it is very powerful, but it is also dangerous, not to mention it usually takes something like seventy-five vorns to master."

Prowl looked down.

"Merging the capabilities of your spark and your processor takes a toll, and in order to do it you must be able to reach a heightened meditative state. If you are distracted, or if you use the power for the wrong purposes, you can be badly hurt."

Prowl realized the implications of that, and took a step back. "Was I putting you in danger by intruding?"

"No. Perhaps if you'd decided to attack me I would have dropped all of Petra's lovely crystal tiles on the ground and broken them. But I doubt you could have harmed me. Thank you for your concern, though. And as to your earlier question, I cannot waste precious time teaching you things that will not be practical."

Prowl looked down. "Very well."

"You are disappointed."

"No, Master."

"Don't lie to me."

"It's just…"

"Impressive?" Yoketron said. "Yes. It is beautiful. I use it primarily as a meditation technique, though that's not what it really is. In fact it is part of an initiation ceremony for the Simfur temple guard, and I often feel wrong using it where there are others around. You will understand if you do ever learn it. Perhaps I would teach you, if we had time. I rarely have the opportunity to teach the technique, and I think you would catch on quickly."

Prowl hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Are you planning on going anywhere?"

"In the near future?" Yoketron asked. "Yes, actually. Sometime in the next few quartexes I'm thinking about borrowing Optimus and taking a trip down to Simfur for a few orns. I'll have to warn you about that if and when those plans solidify. Why do you ask?"

Yoketron had implied that he wouldn't be teaching them for very long. Why? Or maybe he was just talking about needing to train them before the war broke out in earnest.

That was probably it. "No reason."

"Hmm," Master Yoketron said. "Also, you are here nearly ten breems early. That is quite the record, young mech. Was there something that prompted you to leave your other duties and come here before your scheduled time?"

Yes. The reason he'd come. "A message for you," Prowl said. "For security reasons I don't want to say who it's from, but do you know someone designated Kup?"

Yoketron blinked. "Well, yes, I do."

"Apparently," Prowl said, "He's being held captive by the Decepticons, in Kaon."

Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "Oh is he? I wonder what he thinks he's doing there."

Prowl shrugged.

"Who sent this message? Was there anything else?" Yoketron asked. "I know you said you wouldn't tell me. If it truly is a secret, I'll let you keep it. This place is secure, though, if you would like to talk. I'm very curious."

"So am I," Prowl said. "I didn't know he knew you."

"Who?"

Prowl was fairly sure he could trust Master Yoketron. But then again, he couldn't be certain.

"Soundwave?" Yoketron asked.

"No," Prowl said.

Yoketron sighed and looked away. "That's a pity."

"You know Soundwave too?"

"I trained him," Yoketron said. "Him, and Searchlight and Ratchet… also Jazz. Did you meet Jazz?"

Prowl nodded.

"I thought that mechling had so much potential," Yoketron frowned. "But he never used it for anything good… Sometimes I wonder whether I should have refused to train him…" He looked at Prowl. "Was it Jazz?"

Prowl didn't answer.

"I see," Yoketron said. "Are you certain you can trust him? I was disappointed, but not surprised, when he sided with Megatron."

"He did not," Prowl said. "He is in Kaon at great risk to his own spark, and has been sending us crucial information. I don't suppose we _know_ we can trust him, but I would like to think that we can."

Yoketron looked troubled.

"Is there a reason you think we can't trust him?"

"I've seen him on the wrong side of too many conflicts." He shook his helm. "I like to keep track of what my students are doing with what I taught them. He has _quite_ the record."

"I know," Prowl said.

"Yet you trust him. Why?"

Prowl stopped to think for a moment. It went as far back as when they'd been stuck together in that professor's house. Jazz could have abandoned him. Prowl had offered to sacrifice himself as a distraction so Jazz could rescue Perceptor. But Jazz had refused to leave him behind.

"I think I trust him because… I know I'm no good judge of character, but I've seen him put his own life in danger for other mecha. I'm an enforcer. I've observed numerous criminals, and maybe he _was_ one once, but he doesn't act like one now. When he approached me about acting as a double agent for us, he seemed sincere. And it's a dangerous thing he's doing. After all, with Soundwave being a telepath…"

"What?" Yoketron snapped.

"Soundwave is a telepath," Prowl looked up. "You didn't know that?"

Master Yoketron shook his helm, looking even more troubled. "I suppose… it makes sense… now that I think about it… but then if he's a telepath…"

They stood in silence for a few astroseconds.

Then Yoketron sighed. "I see what you mean about Jazz's situation being precarious. This gives me a lot to think about. Can you start warming up by yourself? I need to make arrangements to go to Kaon and see if I can get my brother out of trouble."

"Your… brother?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "I haven't seen Kup for vorns, but we still have a weak sibling bond—weak enough that apparently I can't tell when he gets himself in trouble..."

"When will you leave?"

"Probably after I'm finished working with the Prime this orn," Yoketron said. "And I don't know if I'll be back by next orn. If you don't hear from me, then assume I'm still busy."

"All right," Prowl said. "Thank you. But… won't going to Kaon be dangerous?"

"I will be fine," Yoketron said. "Now, begin meditating please. I'll be back in a breem."

* * *

Autoceptor stood in between the first group of refugees and the dark wall of the cave. Astroseconds ticked down. Twelve… eleven… ten…

Kaltor stood on one side of him, and the shiny-paint noblemech stood on the other side, arms crossed, looking bored.

"We won't have much time," Mirage said. "Just a few breems to get everyone through."

"I know that," Autoceptor growled.

Mirage raised on optic ridge at him. "Do you _always_ have to speak to me with that tone? I _am_ rescuing you after all."

Autoceptor snorted.

Three… two… one…

A groundbridge opened up against the cave wall. Autoceptor took in a deep vent. "All right," he turned to face the anxious crowd. "I'm going through, and I'll be back in less than a breem. Everyone get ready and line up. No pushing, they won't close it on top of us so there's no rush." He turned again and strode toward the bridge. Kaltor followed him, and he wanted to snap at the younger mech, but settled for glaring at the swirling portal in front of him before walking through it.

The other end of the bridge was another cave—this one much more spacious and lit from beneath by glowing channels in the metal floor.

Standing near the bridge were several mecha. Autoceptor recognized one of them from pictures in the news.

"Optimus Prime," Kaltor spoke first. "It's… an honor, sir."

Autoceptor huffed. "This isn't a groundbridge station."

"No," the Prime said. "We commissioned a two-way bridge. Your mecha must stay here for a few orns, until the Decepticons attack. Were we to openly house thousands of refugees from Tarn on the surface streets of Nova Cronum, the Decepticons would discover what we are doing. We cannot risk that."

Autoceptor met the mech's gaze. Optimus Prime had a young, honest faceplate and deep blue optics. He looked away after a moment, and Autoceptor frowned, surprised.

This mech was already not what he had expected.

This mech seemed younger than Kaltor.

The femme standing next to him stepped forward. "We have to get the line moving," she said. "We have to switch the groundbridge to a different destination in a few breems."

Autoceptor nodded. "Kaltor, go back and tell them it's safe to come through."

"But..." Kaltor said.

"Go," Autoceptor said, and approached the Prime and his friends. A large red mech with Iacon Elite Guard insignias on his shoulders took half a step forward, glaring at Autoceptor.

Autoceptor ignored him and faced the Prime.

"Thank you for being willing to trust us and work with us," Optimus said.

"I never trusted you," Autoceptor said. "But we don't really have a choice. You know, you sound older over a comm."

Optimus smiled slightly. "I've been told. It is good to meet you in person, though."

"Yeah," Autoceptor said.

This mech wasn't a politician. He was far, far too honest-looking. Why had the Council chosen him to be their figurehead?

Maybe there were things Autoceptor hadn't understood about the situation. Then again, most of what he'd heard about the Prime had come from Decepticon propaganda. He should have been more suspicious of that.

Mecha started coming through the groundbridge behind him, and the femme who'd spoken earlier went to give them instructions and direct traffic.

"If you remain here, we can speak for a few breems before I return to Iacon," Optimus said.

"I have to get back," Autoceptor replied. "But after all this is done, I wouldn't mind talking. I've… suddenly got a lot of questions about your army."

The Prime nodded once. "I am often busy, but if time permits, I would be happy to speak with you. We need leaders—"

"Prime."

The mech flinched. That was interesting.

"I didn't say I'd _join_ your army," Autoceptor said. "Then again… if this goes well, I will owe you a debt."

And it wasn't as if he'd have anything else to do after this.

The Prime shook his helm vigorously. "No, you don't owe me anything. It is my sworn duty to assist the mecha of Cybertron in any way I can."

Autoceptor followed his gaze to the steady flow of mechs, femmes, and sparklings walking through the groundbridge.

"It'll work, I think." he muttered. "Switching between sectors. Bringing in handfuls at a time from all over the place. So long as you can keep everything organized and no one goes to the wrong authorities."

"My friends are more than capable of keeping things organized," Optimus said. "And I believe this will be easier to hide then evacuating systematically."

Autoceptor nodded. As soon as everyone was through, he'd slip back. These mecha were the first, but there were many more in the central sector of Tarn who would rather not live under Decepticon rule. And he had to stay there until he'd gotten them all out.

Primus, they had really found a way out.

It was too good to be true, and yet… he couldn't imagine this youngling was lying. For the first time since Megatron's intentions toward Tarn had become apparent, Autoceptor felt like the mecha of his city had a chance.

* * *

"Something occurs to me," Megatron said.

"There's a first," Jazz muttered.

Megatron glared at him.

Jazz grinned. _Slag, I wish Searchlight and I had been friends in secondary school instead of enemies._

"What did you say?" Megatron growled.

"Jokin' around, mech. Ya need ta loosen up a little."

"You will speak respectfully to me." _I need him, unfortunately. I can't offline him._

"Whatever you say," Jazz said, leaning back in his chair. "Go back to your monologue."

Megatron shot him another glare, then sighed. "We are missing an element. Pax somehow managed to convince most of the talent of Autobot to follow him. We have primarily gladiators and random mecha off the streets leading us. And you two, of course."

 _Should I point out that he excluded himself from the list of talent? Nah… as it should be, Right 'Wave?_

I didn't react.

"What are you grinning about?" Megatron said.

"I thought of a new poster for putting up around the city. It'll say… "There is no 'us' in Megatron."

Megatron blinked.

"Ya know, cuz ya changed your name and it used ta have an 'us' at the end, but…"

"Would you _take this seriously!_ "

"Okay, okay," Jazz said. "Sorry. You're right. Orion got all the good mecha, and ya're stuck with us."

"Of course, of everyone, I'd pick Soundwave," Megatron said. "And it's too bad we couldn't get Prowl on our side. He would have been very useful…" He frowned. "And then between you and him, Jazz, I'd be driven completely insane."

"Sorry," Jazz said. _Sorry, not sorry. It's boring around here. I gotta have somemech ta talk to._ _Wave, ya're not much of a conversationalist. And it's_ _hard to be friends with Straxus, and Demolishor's an idiot…_

"But in any case, I want to start trying to find a way to get a little more talent in our ranks. Who do you know among the Autobots who might defect? Who hates the Council enough that they might be willing to join with us against them? Or who could we bribe somehow?"

Jazz had a name immediately. _Wheeljack… pit, why did I… never mind, don't be angry, don't think about it..._ "How about Wheeljack?"

I looked in Jazz's direction, paying close attention to his thoughts. He was hiding something...

"Wheeljack?" Megatron asked.

"Yeah," Jazz said, feeling resigned, but trying to ignore it by thinking through a plan to find the engineer-turned-terrorist. "He hates the Council if anyone does. And if we promise to find the Institute and destroy it, he might be willing to listen, even work for you."

Megatron was thoughtful. _That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea._ "Is he currently associated with the Autobots? I was under the impression that he was in a hospital somewhere."

"I don't know," Jazz said. "But I shouldn't think so. I think he's in Praxus or Tagan Heights or somewhere. It shouldn't be too hard for me to find him." _Breeze could help me with that, but I don't know if she'd even be willing to talk to me._

"Then find him." _It'll get you out of Kaon and I won't have to put up with your insubordination anymore._

"Okay."

"Now."

"What?" Jazz stared at him. _He wants me to leave right now?_

"Go."

Jazz nodded and got up. "And 'Wave, ya might want ta start looking for the Institute." _At least we'll be able ta get that nasty place out of the way. I doubt the Council actually did anything about it, and it needs ta be destroyed._

We watched him leave the room.

"The Institute," Megatron said. "One of the Council's most heinous crimes." _I wonder if we can salvage anything or anyone from there. That might be good. Didn't they send members of the Council that they didn't like there? And scientists, obviously, and anymech else they wanted to turn to their own purposes. I wonder if the process could be reversed somehow. There could be some talent there. And even if there isn't, they might have some useful information._

He didn't want to completely destroy the Institute? Did he realize what he was thinking?

Well, he _did_ want to try to reverse the process… save them somehow. At least he didn't want to use shadowplay himself.

"Start looking for it," Megatron said.

I nodded.


	12. Politics

"Watch your step," Autoceptor said as he helped a femme carrying a sparkling up the short incline. They came out into the cavern where mecha were gathered. This femme and her sparkling made fifty-two—there were fifty-two mecha in this batch.

"Thank you," she said.

Autoceptor nodded stiffly and glanced the way they had come. These two were in luck—the bridge was due to open any astrosecond. Everyone would file through and then over the next couple of joors, the cavern would slowly fill again. During the on-cycle they'd often get more than a hundred in each round, but it was harder to sneak mecha down here after curfew and so the next fifteen joors or so would be frustratingly slow.

They'd been going for more than three orns now, and they'd only evacuated half of the mecha they wanted to. It was still more than Autoceptor had ever hoped for, but it wasn't fast enough. The Autobots were toeing the line between being too cautious and not cautious enough, and they were putting everyone in danger _and_ rapidly running out of time. Only two orns left. Two orns before the attack.

A groundbridge opened, filling the cave with eerie blue-green illumination.

"All right everyone!" Autoceptor called over the hum of the bridge. "File through—there's no rush, they won't close it until everyone's made it."

He watched them all walk through. Some of them looked excited or relieved, but most of them were afraid as well. They were leaving everything behind. They'd be packed into overcrowded camps in the caves under Nova Cronum for the next few orns, and then after that, they'd have to move again. And probably again after that.

They might never get to return home to Tarn.

The last of them walked through and Autoceptor leaned against the wall of the cave for a moment, shuttering his optics. He needed recharge.

"Hello?"

"Mm?" Autoceptor came alert and pushed away from the wall. A green and grey mech had come back through the groundbridge. "What do you want? Who are you?"

The mech looked uncertain for a moment, but then offered a small, genuine smile. "I'm an Autobot. I'm here to take over—they sent me to relieve you so you can go to Nova Cronum and get some rest."

"Hmph," Autoceptor frowned. His instincts told him not to trust someone so friendly. "Tell them I'm not going."

The mech looked lost for a moment. "Are… you sure?"

Autoceptor nodded. "You can stay if you want, though, and help me direct traffic."

"All right," the mech said and put a finger to his helm. A few astroseconds later, the groundbridge closed and the Autobot turned to talk to him again. "So, you're an enforcer here in Tarn?"

"Uhuh," Autoceptor said. Exhaustion had sapped all his patience for pointless conversations, but he needed more information before he let this mech help. "And you? You don't exactly carry yourself like a soldier."

The Autobot shrugged, looking down in what might have been embarrassment. "I know. I was a member of Autobot before Megatron branched off and attacked Kaon. I had lost my job because of it, and… I guess going back didn't feel right. The Prime… needs as much help as we can offer."

Autoceptor raised an optic ridge.

"Honestly, though, I'm hoping I don't end up on the front lines right away. I don't know if I could actually kill someone."

So he was just another Iaconian idealist. Optimus Prime's cause seemed to attract those. "What was your job before?"

"I was a primary school teacher," the mech smiled.

Primus beneath.

"Well," Autoceptor said. "You'll fit right in here, we've got a lot of sparklings going through this bridge, and they get real bored and whiny, so maybe you can keep the next batch entertained and quiet."

"I can do that." The mech brightened.

"Look," Autoceptor deadpanned. "I need some recharge. Mecha are probably going to start showing up soon to go through the next bridge. Can you keep track of how many there are, and let them know they're in the right place?"

"Of course."

"Wake me up if you have any questions. Actually, you got any questions right now?"

"Um…" the mech said. "Oh, I don't know your designation."

"Autoceptor."

The Autobot held out a hand. "I'm Hound."

Autoceptor shook his hand. "Good to meet you. Anything else?"

"No," Hound said. "They've briefed me on how this works. Let me give you my comm. codes, though, and you can pass them off to the mech on the other end."

"Right," Autoceptor said, and accepted a small datapad from the mech. Then he went over to the side of the cave and sat down to comm. Kaltor, who was stationed in a small shop that had a passage leading underground.

" _Everything all right?"_ Kaltor asked over the private frequency.

" _Yeah. The Autobots sent a mech to help run things down here. I'm going to get a couple of joors of recharge."_

" _About time you took a nap, old mech. How many joors have you been online?"_

" _Shut up,"_ Autoceptor growled. _"After I've gotten some rest, I'll send him up to take your spot so you can recharge for a bit too."_

" _Thank you."_

" _And I'll send you his comm codes so you don't have to bother me about anything."_

" _Sounds like a plan. I had a pretty big group in here a breem ago, so they should be showing up in five or ten breems."_

" _Great,"_ Autoceptor said. _"Keep them coming."_

He forwarded Kaltor Hound's comm. codes, and then cut the comm. Then he leaned back against the wall and tried to doze off before the group of mecha arrived.

* * *

The cell door swung open. Ultra Magnus looked up and then stood as a guard came in.

"What is it?"

The mech saluted. "The Council wants you, Sir," he said.

Ultra Magnus nodded in resignation and stepped out of the cell.

"Sir…" the mech said. "If they… decide to have you executed..."

"I expect you and the others to follow their commands exactly," Ultra Magnus said. "As you have sworn to do."

"Yes, Sir." The guard said quietly.

They were joined by three other guards out in the hall and Ultra Magnus walked between the four of them out of the detention center and onto the streets of Central Iacon.

One of the other guards started to say something. Ultra Magnus silenced the mech with a glare, but then had to push down an unusual swell of sentiment. He hadn't realized how loyal these mecha were to him. He knew they generally didn't like him—in fact some of them outright hated him. So he certainly hadn't expected any of them to protest his potential execution.

Ultra Magnus watched the golden city pass by as they walked. This might be the last time he got to see it. He wished he could have done more for Optimus Prime and his Autobots, but it seemed his part in this conflict was over.

Guilt churned his tanks. Giving up was wrong—following the Council's orders was wrong… But wouldn't breaking his oath be wrong as well?

They reached the Council Hall and Ultra Magnus walked purposefully through the building to the Council Chamber, where they were waiting to pronounce his sentence.

Halogen smiled at him from behind his podium. "Welcome, Ultra Magnus."

Ultra Magnus was silent.

"Shall we get this over with?"

Ultra Magnus met his optics and nodded once.

"Captain Ultra Magnus," Halogen said. "We have decided to strip you of your rank, though we will not release you from your oath. After much deliberation, we have come to the conclusion that you cannot be trusted. However, while your loyalty is questionable, you have not committed any overt acts of treason, so we cannot execute you. Instead, we have decided to sentence you to long-term imprisonment in stasis until further evidence can be produced."

Did they want him out of the way for some reason? If so, why not execute him? They didn't really need evidence to have him killed. Were they worried they'd lose the loyalty of the rest of the Elite Guard?

Or did they want him online for some reason?

"Any last words before you go?" Senator Ratbat asked from off to the side.

Ultra Magnus looked around the room. He did not care to say anything to any of them. "No, your honor."

"Well, then, take him away," Halogen said.

Ultra Magnus followed the guards from the room. At least the Council hadn't asked him to do anything dishonorable again. Forced stasis was better than that.

It still meant he'd be out of the conflict, and in some ways, it was a greater insult to his honor than killing him would have been. His stasis pod would be stored in Stanix or Polyhex, among those of probable murderers, thieves, and traitors.

They led him to a side room where they had a stasis pod ready. He stepped in and turned so he was facing the rest of the room. The door to the pod swung closed and Magnus fought a moment of panic before the pod activated and all of his systems shut down, reducing him to nothing more than a faintly pulsing spark.

* * *

"So the Autobots don't seem to be making any preparations to defend against Megatron," the spy said.

Blackangle sat back in his throne, frowning. "Well, it isn't as if they can fend off the gladiator's armies at this point."

"It's weird, though," the hologram in front of him fuzzed for a moment as the mech folded his arms. "You'd think the Autobots would be doing _something_ different now that Megatron's openly preparing to attack, but they aren't. No one seems any more stressed than usual, and I didn't even overhear anyone talking about it last time I got invited up into the tower. I mean, tension's been high all decaorn but..."

"I suppose you're right," Blackangle said. "They should, at least, be concerned. Unless they already knew about it somehow…"

"How would they find out about it?" the spy asked.

"See," Blackangle said. "That's the kind of question _you're_ supposed to answer. Do you have anything else to report?"

"Nothing of particular interest, Sir. I can send you some updated numbers soon, though."

"Alright. Then get back to work."

The hologram blinked out, and Blackangle leaned forward, reaching up to finger the brand on his shoulder that marked him as a member of Quantum, the largest gang in Polyhex.

 _Could_ the Autobots have known somehow? Maybe they were secretly in league with the Decepticons. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise—after all, Optimus and Megatron had worked together in the past.

More likely he was missing something.

That wasn't acceptable. The world was changing and he was already falling behind. For one brief vorn, he had practically owned the Polyhex Council, but that stupid resistance movement in Iacon had inspired too many loud, whiny civilians. They'd started to demand that the Council take steps to clean up the streets and cut down on crime. Running the city-state had become more trouble than it was worth.

Blackangle had gone into hiding, taking his mecha with him. He still had some deals with government officials, but that might not last much longer if current political trends continued.

He had spies everywhere—among the Autobots, the Decepticons, the Councils themselves…

One of those three powers was going to come out on top of this fight.

And as soon as he figured out which one, he would be ready to pick a side.

* * *

Starscream wasn't in his room, so Thundercracker wandered out to the front room, where Skywarp was bent over the table there, carving something into it with a small knife.

"What are you doing?"

Skywarp looked up as Thundercracker sat across from him at the table, but didn't answer.

"You know this table is new," Thundercracker said. "I don't think they want you destroying it."

Skywarp sighed and went back to scraping paint off the table. "There's nothing to do here," he said. "I got in trouble for _flying_ earlier this orn and some groundpounder enforcers chased me down and tried to arrest me. For _flying._ It's not like I was even doing anything wrong."

"Well, taking it out on the table doesn't seem like a great idea. Where's Starscream?"

"Don't know," Skywarp said. "He's already ruined the possibility of making friends with the other seekers, though, so I'm kind of mad at him. Something's wrong with that mech, more than usual." He scraped a long line of paint off the table. He wasn't even drawing anything, just making a mess.

Also, if even Skywarp was noticing something wrong with Starscream…

"I miss Tealwing," Skywarp said. "The two of them fighting all the time meant he was nicer to me. He got so mad earlier this orn."

"Because you pushed him of the roof."

Skywarp snickered, then shook his helm. "Also, you lied to me."

"When?"

"You said we'd be back in Vos in a couple of orns, but we're not. We're still here and there's nothing to do and nowhere to go and we're supposed to start training or whatever next orn, but I bet it will be awful because groundpounders are stupid and I'm bored out of my processor. Also, Starscream was in here five breems ago ranting about how he needs a personal audience with Optimus Prime and how his plans are ruined or something."

"Skywarp, I _literally_ just asked you if you knew where Starscream was, and you said you didn't."

"That was five breems ago. I don't know where he is _now._ "

Thundercracker sighed and commed Starscream.

"Do you have any energon?" Skywarp asked. "I don't want to go to the crowded death cave where they hand it out."

"But it's your turn this orn," Thundercracker said.

"I'll trade you. It's your turn next orn, right?"

It was Starscream's, but Thundercracker wouldn't be surprised if Starscream pushed the responsibility off on him anyway.

He sighed and pulled a cube of energon out of subspace, then shoved it across the table at his trine brother, who took it gleefully.

"Why do I put up with you?" Thundercracker asked.

"Well," Skywarp said. "Honestly, I don't know."

Starscream finally answered his comm. _"What is it?"_ he sneered.

"Can we talk?"

" _I suppose. Are you at the apartment?"_

"Yeah."

"You talking to Screamer?" Skywarp asked, then tilted his helm back and drank half of the cube in one gulp.

Thundercracker nodded.

" _Meet me on the roof in two breems."_ Starscream's voice crackled over the comm.

"Here, you can have the rest," Skywarp pushed the cube toward Thundercracker, who took it. He held it up to his olfactory sensor warily.

"Don't worry, I didn't slip anything gross in it this time," Skywarp said. "You know, you're the least fun to prank, ever. Even _Andromeda_ is more fun to prank than you."

Thundercracker put the energon back into subspace with a sigh and stood.

"What did Starscream say?"

"That he'll talk to me on the roof."

"See if you can talk some sense into him," Skywarp said. "He sometimes listens to you, right?"

"I'll try," Thundercracker said and made his way out of the apartment and up to the roof. He was waiting for four breems before Starscream finally flew over and landed next to him.

"So…" he said, but his trine leader cut him off.

"We're _wasting_ time here," Starscream growled. " _I_ should be in _charge_ already. I should be _leading_ the Autobots and they won't even let me talk to the Prime. I can't believe some other seekers are here now, trying to take what's rightfully mine. If we don't act quickly…"

"Primus _beneath,_ Starscream," Thundercracker said. "Why do you even _care?_ Why do you want to lead a groundpounder army anyway?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Don't you think it's time to give up and head back home?"

Starscream chuckled, then wheezed, then finally leaned forward and held his sides as he laughed.

Thundercracker crossed his arms and waited for his brother to calm down. Eventually, Starscream got ahold of himself and put a hand on Thundercracker's shoulder, shaking his helm. "Oh, Thundercracker," he said. "It's all right. It's hard to believe you're stupid enough to actually _want_ to go back to a place where we were rejected and treated like scrap. But I suppose your intellectual abilities have always been… lacking. Don't worry. Trust me that I know what I'm doing. I _do_ have a plan after all."

"If you have a plan, tell me what it is."

"Fine," Starscream said. "I've been watching, and I know when the Prime is normally in the noblemech's tower. Next orn—or maybe the orn after—we're going to fly up to the tower and demand to speak with him."

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge.

"And if he won't listen to reason…" Starscream leaned in closer. "We'll kidnap him and take him to Megatron as a peace offering, to leverage my way into _his_ good graces."

Thundercracker stared for a moment. "You're right," he said. "I don't understand. That is a _terrible_ plan, Starscream." He lowered his voice. "Please tell me you're not serious. You want to kidnap Optimus Prime from his own base and fly him across the _entire_ planet? All so we can join the _other_ army trying to take over the world?"

"Only if the Prime is as ignorant as all of his lackeys," Starscream said. "I'm still holding on to the hope that he'll recognize my talents and put me in the position I deserve."

"I'm not going along with this one," Thundercracker said. "I'm not letting you do this."

"But it'll be easy," Starscream said. "We have Skywarp's mod, we can grab the Prime and warp out of the tower. Besides, when have I ever led you wrong?"

Thundercracker could think of a few times. "Look, even if that works, which I'm skeptical about, should we really be joining Megatron's side? Isn't he the one trying to destroy everything?"

"It doesn't matter," Starscream said. "Whichever side we're on will win."

Thundercracker opened his mouth to make a snide comment about Starscream's arrogance, but noticed a familiar glint in his trine brother's optics.

"My only question is," Starscream said. "Whose side are _you_ on?"

Thundercracker took in a deep vent and sighed it out. "I can tell you have some sort of plan involving this war, and I won't pretend I'm not concerned… But I'm your brother, and I'll always be on your side."

"Thank you," Starscream said. "I'm glad I can count on you."

He transformed and flew away, leaving Thundercracker to his worries.

* * *

Orion's pedes pounded on the hard, smooth ground. He could hear the beast in pursuit, engine roaring, pedes stomping behind him.

Not real.

It wasn't real…

He skidded around the corner…

And everything froze. The walls faded into gray nothingness and Orion gasped as light blinded him for a moment.

Then his optics adjusted. He was back in the crystal garden.

"I assume from your expression that you were not successful," Yoketron said.

Orion shook his helm. "I think I got eaten even more times that run," he muttered, trying to hold back his frustration. "I think I'm getting _worse_ at this."

He risked a glance at Yoketron, who was watching him with a neutral expression on his faceplate.

"Master Yoketron?"

"Yes, Orion?"

Orion looked down. "I don't mean to… to question the Original Thirteen Primes, but…"

"But…?"

"But I'm not sure I see the point of this trial. In the real world, I can't just… imagine my problems away. Convincing myself that Megatron can still be reasoned with, or that my army can stand against his… won't make those things true if they're not. Does that make sense?"

"Are you suggesting that you don't believe the trial is teaching you anything useful?"

Orion wasn't sure what to say.

"What have you learned from it so far?"

What had he learned?

He had learned that being eaten alive and torn to pieces over and over again gave you nightmares. He'd learned that you could try something again and again and again and _still_ fail.

He wasn't sure if he could do this for much longer. How had his predecessors gotten through this trial with their sanity intact?

"Orion?"

"I guess… I've learned what it feels like to die."

That would make it even harder to send soldiers into battle.

"That's something," Yoketron said. "What else?"

"Well, it seems like the trial is attempting to teach me that I can ignore my problems and they'll go away."

Yoketron frowned.

"I apologize for my disrespect,"

"There is no need to apologize," Yoketron said. "At least not to me. Frankly, I don't approve of the Trials. I've always thought there has to be a less traumatic way to prepare mecha for receiving the Matrix."

Orion shuddered.

"However," Yoketron said. "In this case, I think you might simply be looking at the trial from the wrong angle. While I don't know Liege Maximo very well, I doubt he'd preach about ignoring problems. Is ignoring the dangers really what makes them disappear from the maze?"

"Yes…" Orion frowned. "Actually... no. If I ignore them, they still kill me. It's not ignoring. It's as if… I have to see them and then focus on them and convince myself they're not there. But isn't that still lying to myself?"

"Hmm…" Yoketron said. "Is it? Those monsters are just in your helm—they aren't actually real in the first place. So in a sense, you're telling yourself the truth when you convince yourself they're fake."

That… was admittedly true.

"Let me ask you this," Yoketron said. "What stops you?"

"What… stops me?"

"Everyone makes wrong decisions once in a while. What stops you from doing what you know is right? Social convention? Convenience? The worry that you'll offend someone? Fear of failure?"

Orion looked down.

"You don't need to answer me," Yoketron said. "But I want you to think about it. We all have obstacles in the way of our better tendencies. If _I_ were to undergo this trial, I believe that those monsters would represent excuses for me. It was making excuses that prevented me from training you earlier."

That made sense. "But it's… it's still frustrating."

Yoketron nodded. "Would you like to be finished for the orn?"

Orion shook his helm. "I have to try at least one more time. You're right, maybe if I think about it differently it'll be easier."

"Very well," Yoketron said. "One more time."

* * *

Swindle didn't really consider himself to be a merchant, and opportunist was such an ugly word. He was more like a magician. Making money happen, vanishing when deals went sour. Or maybe he was like a musician. He always knew what notes to play to get his audience excited.

But being in the business of everything sly and underhanded, he recognized when something was going on under the table. And something was definitely going on under the table of this Tarnian street corner. It was a busy street, full of merchandising, buying, selling, talking, and trading, even this early in the on-cycle. Considering the crowd, it would be easy not to notice that twenty eight mecha, mostly femmes and sparklings, had all entered a small tool shop in the past half a joor.

And none of them had come back out.

This was quite the mystery. As far as Swindle knew, there was no prominent back door. And the demographic of the mecha entering made it even more interesting. Modest-looking femmes and sparklings, and some ordinary-looking mechs too. Not the kind of mecha who normally participated in dubious activity.

However, there was quite a bit of tension here regarding the seemingly imminent Decepticon take-over, and there were, it was rumored, several groups of the more reasonable-processored citizens who were afraid of this. He had thought originally that this might be some sort of anti-Decepticon meeting, but the mecha were too spread out over time, and you wouldn't be bringing sparklings to that…

Even as he contemplated, a femme came through the crowd with a sparkling clinging to her hand. She had on her faceplate the uncomfortable and slightly nervous look of someone honest trying to do something dishonest for the first time.

Yes, these were probably mecha who wouldn't want Megatron in charge. They were Swindle's least favorite kind of mecha—difficult to scam mainly because they didn't _want_ anything he sold or pretended to sell.

He watched the femme enter the shop, just as he'd expected she would. What could they be doing there? There had to be a reason.

Swindle himself wasn't afraid of the impending Decepticon take-over. He was certain he would find good business wherever he was, no matter the circumstances. And if need be, he could get out without being noticed. He had plenty of bolt-holes all over the… aha! That was it. Swindle crossed his arms and leaned against the building he was standing by, barely containing a smirk.

That was bold of them.

They were escaping. Smuggling mecha out of the city.

Wonderful. This orn was about to get a lot better. He could make some serious credit off of that information, for sure, if he talked to the right city official. He transformed and drove away, humming to himself. He was pleased to have figured it out. It hadn't been very hard, of course.

They hadn't made it very hard. Amateurs.


	13. Obstacles

Kaltor idly stacked bolts, washers, and screws into little towers on the front desk. The owner of this shop was a cranky old femme who'd probably yell at him for making a mess of her wares… except that she'd never know because she was already in Nova Cronum. He needed something to do anyway, or he'd have a hard time staying online. Even though Hound had let him catch a few extra joors of recharge and it was nearly the middle of the orn, he still felt like he could doze off if he tried.

The door opened and Kaltor looked up with a smile, ready to welcome the newcomers and show them the way to the caves.

Then he froze.

These mecha weren't refugees.

"Hey, I know you," the taller of the two enforcers approached him, with his partner following close behind. "You're that new mechling. Taken up shopkeeping, I see."

"Uh… modern art, actually," Kaltor said, gesturing to the miniature towers on the front counter as he commed Autoceptor.

The mech crossed his arms. "Where's your senior partner? I should have known he'd be involved with this somehow."

"I'm… not sure what you're talking about," Kaltor said, standing up from his chair and scooting it back. _Come on, 'Ceptor, answer the fragging comm…_ "Autoceptor's got the rest of the decaorn off. He broke an axle, and then contracted a nasty virus. And I got assigned to Clampdown and Deep Cover, but they said they didn't want to risk getting infected with the virus in case _I_ was, so…"

"They in on it too, then?"

"In on… what?"

Finally, Autoceptor answered his comm. _"What do you want?"_

" _Some of the other enforcers are here. I can't remember their designations, but I know these two are bad news. I think we've been compromised—get everyone out of the cave and tell Clamp and Cover they've got to stop sending mecha to the store._ "

There was silence on the other end.

"Don't play dumb with us, mechling. We know what you're doing here. Where are you sending them? You got some sort of camp down under the city or something? Did you _really_ think that was a good idea?"

"I still haven't got a clue what you're talking about," Kaltor said, backing away from the counter as the other enforcers approached. These two didn't seem to know that the Autobots were involved, so they must have gotten their information from someone lower down—maybe one of the mecha they'd invited to come to the store had turned on them.

" _How long can you stall?"_ Autoceptor asked.

" _Um… I don't know. I don't have a good excuse to be here."_

"You going to show us where you're sending everyone?" the enforcer asked.

" _Then get out of there before they arrest you!"_ Autoceptor growled over the comm.

" _What about everyone in the cave?"_

" _We'll hide,"_ Autoceptor said. _"Go!"_

Kaltor took in a deep vent. The other enforcers were in between him and the door and if he went around the counter, that would give them too much time to block him. He had to get past them somehow.

"Well?" the taller mech asked, pulling an energon prod from subspace.

Kaltor stepped up on the chair behind him and leaped over the counter, smashing through his little junk towers and sending bolts and washers flying as he crashed into the second enforcer—the one who'd been quiet so far.

"What…"

"Hey!"

The mech went down and Kaltor sprinted for the door. If he got out there, he could transform and drive away.

Almost there…

Something crashed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground just one step away from the door.

Frag it.

He kicked and rolled, trying to throw the other mech off of him, but the older, more experienced enforcer already had the upper hand. Kaltor heard the second mech approaching as well and stopped struggling.

"' _Ceptor, I c—"_

His comm. went offline as a pair of stasis cuffs snapped onto his wrists.

Well, he was slagged now.

"Look around, see if you can find some sort of hidden back door." The taller, talkative enforcer grabbed the back of Kaltor's neck and dragged him to his pedes, then steered him over to he front desk again. "Shopkeeper, why don't you tell me what the password is for the computer? We're going to need to check your security feeds."

"You got a warrant?" Kaltor asked.

The other enforcer tried to slam Kaltor's faceplate into the corner of the counter, but Kaltor pushed back, trying to throw the mech off again. He probably couldn't escape at this point, but he didn't really feel like cooperating either.

The enforcer rammed an energon prod into his back and Kaltor gasped, slumping forward against the counter. His armor buffered some of the plasmatic energon but it still hurt.

While he was recovering, the other enforcer turned the settings on the stasis cuffs all the way up, which made it nearly impossible to move.

There was a loud, clattering crash from behind him as if the quieter enforcer had shoved a shelf over.

Of course, they'd trash the place. At least the old femme who'd owned it probably wouldn't have come back anyway.

"Here," the talkative enforcer said. "You don't look so good. Why don't you sit down?"

Kaltor was guided forcefully into the chair behind the counter, and the other mech powered up the computer console. Kaltor's helm was filled with static from the stasis cuffs and his shoulders were already starting to seize up.

"Tell me the password."

"I don't know it," Kaltor said through gritted denta.

This time he couldn't fight as the enforcer grabbed the back of his helm and slammed his faceplate into the edge of the counter.

"Aahhh! I really don't know, I swear. And the security footage won't help you."

"Why?" the enforcer said, letting go of him.

"We turned the cameras off," Kaltor whimpered. It felt like his faceplate had been split in half. At the very least it probably had a nasty dent in it.

The enforcer growled and shoved the energon prod into his side. Kaltor screamed this time—the high settings on the stasis cuffs negated the sensory buffers in his armor.

Lightning coursed through him for what felt like a whole breem before finally dying out. Slowly, he raised his helm, trying to vent evenly. There was another crash as the quieter enforcer shoved another shelf of merchandise over.

Someone was peering through the window, but they darted away when they saw Kaltor looking. The noises in here wouldn't gather much of a crowd, especially if the mecha outside had seen Kaltor's attackers come in. Enforcement brutality was nothing new in this city and most mecha were smart enough to stay away from this sort of thing.

"Let's go back to an earlier question then. Where's your back door?"

Kaltor just shuttered his optics and braced himself. He wanted to give Autoceptor and the others as much time as possible to hide.

"Hey, I found something," the other enforcer said.

Kaltor let out a sigh of relief, and then immediately felt guilty for it.

"This floor panel's got hinges."

The talkative enforcer scooted past Kaltor and went to look.

Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder.

Kaltor stared up at the door again. If he could get over there fast enough…

He tried to stand up, but his frame didn't want to move. On his second try, he almost managed to get up, but then rocked back into the chair.

The sirens got closer and Kaltor heard the sound of a large transport driving up right outside the shop.

So much for that plan.

Several more enforcers burst in, just as the first two opened the trap door in the corner.

"Hey," the talkative mech said, standing up to address the newcomers. "Looks like they've been sending mecha down there. You mechs bring a transport?"

"Yes," one of the new enforcers said.

"Good. Someone should stay here and guard the entrance while the rest of you go down and check it out. I'll take this one in for questioning." He jerked his helm in Kaltor's direction.

Frag it.

This orn was about to get a lot worse.

* * *

Orion answered his comm. even before he came fully online.

"Whatisit?" he muttered.

" _Optimus, we need to have an emergency meeting."_

"Again, Prowl?" He forced himself into a sitting position.

" _The evacuation's been stopped in Central Tarn and one of their coordinators was arrested."_

Orion got up. "All right, I'm coming."

He supposed he couldn't ask the mecha in Tarn to refrain from needing help in the middle of the off-cycle. It was on-cycle for them.

As his grogginess faded, resignation and dread slipped in to replace it. Something like this had been almost inevitable, but he'd started to hope…

He walked quietly past a recharging Ironhide and made it to the meeting room, where Mainspring and Prowl were waiting. A moment later, Elita came in. She offered Orion a tired smile and then sat down next to him.

"All right," Mainspring said. "Thank you for coming. Mirage?"

He materialized and took the empty seat next to Mainspring. "Did Prowl tell you I was here? Or can everyone see through my mod now?"

"It was a lucky guess," Mainspring said. "Now…"

"What happened in Tarn?" Elita said. "Is everyone all right?"

"As far as we know, yes," Mainspring said. "The only mech who might not be is the one who got arrested. Unfortunately, he knows about our involvement and would be able to tell the Tarn Council about it."

Orion looked down. "Could we… attempt to rescue him?"

Silence fell around the table for several astroseconds.

"Don't look at me," Mirage said. "I can get in anywhere, but as soon as I'm bringing someone else with me, I lose my advantage. Along with that, I'm not actually trained for that sort of thing. I've certainly never tried breaking anyone out of jail, and I doubt it would go very well if I did."

"Agreed," Prowl said. "I think we have to assume that the Tarn Council either knows, or will soon know, that we've been smuggling their citizens to safety."

"What do you suggest we do?" Orion asked.

"The safest option is to stop the evacuation," Mainspring said. "The mech who was arrested also knows several of the other locations we're evacuating from. And even if he didn't, they'll be looking now. Even if he doesn't tell them we're involved, they'll be watching for other places where mecha are disappearing. And I'm positive they'll find us."

"Also," Elita said. "They have more than eighty thousand mecha in the caverns in Nova Cronum, and distributing energon to them is becoming difficult and costly."

"We can't keep evacuating them," Prowl said.

"But we…"

"Optimus," Prowl said. "We _have_ to stop. We saved a large number of civilians, and we're just lucky something like this didn't happen earlier."

But they still had time. They had almost two orns before the Decepticons attacked. In that time they could rescue thousands more mecha.

Prowl was right. It wouldn't be worth it if the mecha they were trying to help got hurt or captured. As it was, the Autobots were already putting themselves in a dangerous position.

But…

"Should I comm. everyone and tell them the next bridge will be the last?" Mainspring asked. "We can probably go one more round before we shut down entirely."

"That sounds reasonable," Prowl said.

"Orion?" Elita asked, putting a hand on his arm.

"No," Orion said.

Prowl sighed. "I told you, we _can't…_ "

"We _can_ keep helping them," Orion said. "It may be more dangerous for us now, but I would rather get more mecha out of Tarn, even if it means the Decepticons know we were involved in the evacuation."

Prowl frowned at the table. "We can't keep doing what we've been doing," he said. "They'll catch everyone who's been helping."

"Then we'll do something else," Orion insisted.

Silence fell around the table again. Orion looked around the table from one faceplate to the next, hoping against hope that they wouldn't argue.

After several astroseconds, Elita spoke. "Orion, I don't know what we can—"

"Wait," Prowl said, looking up.

Orion met his optics.

"There is… one thing we could try…"

* * *

Autoceptor didn't dare move as he watched the enforcers search through the dark cavern. The thirty or so mecha who'd been in the cave were all crammed in behind him. The little side passage ended in a dead end, and there had barely been enough room for everyone to pack in. He tensed as an enforcer shone a light in their direction, but while the light crossed over their hiding place, shining in Autoceptor's optics, the mech carrying it didn't seem to notice.

He would have to apologize to Hound. He'd made fun of the "party trick" the Autobot had been using to keep the sparklings and younglings entertained.

Now it was saving their afts.

They waited in silence. Hound had said he couldn't mask their sound, so all of the civilians behind him were trying to be as quiet as they could. There was still an occasional shuffle, or a whimper from one of the younger ones.

But so long as no one came too close—so long as the echoes of the other enforcers' pedes covered up the noise of the refugees' engines…

"Well, there's pedeprints all over the ground," one of the enforcers, a mech designated Radar, said. "And this is where the signs led."

"They must have been warned and moved somewhere else," a mech Autoceptor knew as Impulse replied, shining his light all over the walls.

"We should move on and look elsewhere," Tax, who was the highest ranking enforcer in the room, said. "But just in case, Radar, I want you to stay here and guard the place. Comm. us if anyone shows up. Once we've swept the area, we'll let you know you can head back to the surface."

Radar nodded, and the other enforcers left the cavern through a different side passage.

Autoceptor got a three-way comm. and he saw Hound jump slightly, which meant the Autobot was probably one of the other two in the conversation.

He joined the channel.

" _Hi,"_ an unfamiliar voice said. _"We can get you a bridge out of there, but it'll have to be soon. Are you still in danger?"_

" _Yes,"_ Autoceptor replied. _"How long can you wait?"_

" _Half a joor at the most, but the sooner, the better."_

Autoceptor looked at the enforcer standing in the middle of the cave. _"Give us five breems."_

Hound turned to look at him with wide, confused optics.

" _All right."_

" _We'll let you know as soon as we're ready. It's going to need to be fast."_

" _We'll be waiting."_

Autoceptor cut the comm. and commed Hound on a private, internal frequency.

" _What are we going to do about the enforcer?"_ Hound asked him.

" _Can you hide me while I'm moving? Make me blend in with the walls or the floor or something?"_

" _Well… I can camouflage you but it'll be hard to get rid of your shadow entirely."_

" _Good enough. We'll wait a few breems, and I'll go knock him out. Then you an the others can go through the bridge before anyone else comes back here."_

Hound shot him a questioning look. _"What about you?"_

" _My idiot of a trainee's got himself arrested, and I have to try and rescue him before they torture him to death."_ They must have taken the stasis cuffs off of him, because Autoceptor had started getting Kaltor's tracker location and vitals again.

He knew the building at those coordinates and it was not a good place for prisoners. So far, Kaltor's energon levels were still pretty good, and his spark pulse was only a little weaker than normal, but that didn't mean they weren't hurting him. Stupid mechling.

Autoceptor should have been the one up there in the shop. He'd wanted to make sure mecha got through the bridge safely, but he should have realized it would be more dangerous up in the city.

" _Let me know when you're ready,"_ Hound said. _"So I can be ready."_

Autoceptor gave it another breem and then nodded to Hound, and squeezed past him out into the cavern. He moved slowly, careful to keep his pedes silent on the ground as he shifted one hand into a blaster and set it to stun.

He glanced down once, and it was very disconcerting to see… nothing where his pedes should have been, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He crept right behind Radar and fired the stun shot directly into the back of his helm.

The younger enforcer collapsed silently. Autoceptor caught him and lowered him to the ground, then turned to look at the wall. He couldn't even tell where the passage was until Hound dropped the hologram.

Autoceptor nodded.

An astrosecond later, a groundbridge opened, and Hound waved everyone out of the passage.

Mecha flooded out of the passage and rushed forward to file through the bridge. They were hushed, but their pedes still made too much noise. Autoceptor watched the main entrance to the cave warily.

Once the civilians had gone through, Autoceptor gestured for Hound to follow them, but the green and grey Autobot hesitated.

A tall blue mech came through the groundbridge, and looked down his olfactory sensor at Autoceptor.

"Officer," Mirage nodded.

"Noblemech," Autoceptor replied with a scowl. "We can't talk here. We've probably only got a few breems before this mech's friends show up." He gestured to the unconscious enforcer on the ground.

"Well, we need to talk somewhere," Mirage said. "There's been a change in plans."

"I get it," Autoceptor said. "You mechs can't help anymore, so you're leaving the rest of us to our fate. It's fine, you—"

"Actually, we're still going to try and get more of you out, but we have to change tactics. If we can't talk here, then we should go somewhere we _can_ talk."

The groundbridge closed.

"Hey!" Autoceptor said, then looked at Hound.

Mirage followed his gaze.

"It's all right," Hound said. "I was going to ask if I could stay and help anyway."

"And who exactly are you?" Mirage asked.

"He's one of you Autobots," Autoceptor said. "Come on, follow me and I'll see if I can get us out of here without getting caught."

* * *

The view from the top of the building showed, more than anything, how polluted Kaon's skies were. I could barely make out the mecha below through the thick, rust-colored haze, small specks making trails through the distant, grimy streets.

There were parts of Iacon like this as well, but you couldn't see them from Mirage's tower. The tower that the Decepticons were using as a base had once been occupied by a wealthy businessmech—Kaon's equivalent of nobility. Megatron didn't see the irony of that, though he was having a permanent base built elsewhere.

Demolishor came up behind us. He had been a guard in the gladiator pits, and part of Megatronus's movement from the beginning. Something about his blind loyalty irritated me. Or maybe he was just irritating in general—Megatron certainly seemed to think so.

"Lord Megatron."

Megatron turned away from the view. _Does he really have to come tell me every little thing?_

"Lord Megatron," Demolishor repeated, bowing. "The troops are ready to move out, on your command."

Megatron raised an optic ridge. _That's sooner than I expected. We still have an orn._ "Thank you, Demolishor."

The mech joined them at the edge, looking out over the city, shooting a suspicious glance in my direction. He knew I was from Iacon, and didn't think I could be trusted. In addition, he had expected to be Megatron's closest advisor, and wasn't happy that I'd claimed that role instead.

"Is there something else?" Megatron asked.

"Uh, no, Sir," Demolishor said, backing away again. "Unless you have any orders for me, Sir."

"Not at the moment." _Is he going to take the hint, or do I have to order him to leave?_

Demolishor bowed and walked away.

Megatron frowned, focusing his attention out over the city again. Our reserves of energon were being rapidly depleted. We needed to re-staff the mines, but he was loathe to ask any of his followers to work in them.

"Will one orn make a difference?" he asked, running through his plans in his helm. _We have to make sure we don't just kill everyone. We'll take out the Council, take over, put Straxus in charge. Anyone who won't swear loyalty to the cause can work in the mines instead. There should be plenty. About a fourth of the population, if reports are correct, and if even half of those refuse to swear loyalty to me..._

Because Kaon was at the opposite latitude from Kalis, the sun reached the same angle in the sky, following the same path. Except here, it swung to the north instead of the south.

"Soundwave?" _Answer me. Will it help us if we attack an orn early?_

I kept looking out over the city, trying to decide what to say. This whole thing felt wrong.

"What?"

"Could we… offer to pay mecha to work in the-e mi-ines?" Fragging stutter. I had so little need to speak recently that it was creeping back in from lack of practice.

He frowned at me.

We used to stand on the roof of the school in Kalis, and he'd look out over what he could see of the sector, making plans to change the world for the better.

 _That sounds like something Orion would say._

"Orion wasn't wro-ong about eve-erything."

Megatron shook his helm.

"Can't we sho-ow them we-e-e can be better than the Co-ouncils?"

Swapping the oppressed out for another group of largely innocent mecha wasn't what Searchlight would have wanted to do.

"How do you propose we accomplish that? What would we pay them with?" Megatron asked. _I agree that would be better, but the logistics…_

At least he was considering it.

But now, I didn't really have an answer.

"I understand your sentiment," Megatron said, glancing in my direction before looking out over the city again. "But it may be too late for that, and we have to consider our resources. We need more energon—we need mecha in the mines. We can't pay them as much as they deserve at this point, so we have to find another alternative. Can you accept that?"

I looked down.

"The Councils must end. They _must._ And we have to do everything we can in order to end them. After that, we can re-build. After that, we can make things fair for everyone. I thought you agreed with me that Orion's route was too slow."

I nodded.

 _Soundwave still cares. He cares about the common mecha in Tarn who don't agree with us. That is something valuable._

Megatron looked up at the blue sky. Up this high you could only see a faint tint of brown above. Almost all the pollution was beneath us.

 _I cared about my friends in the mines, before they were killed. That's what started me down this path. I will make society pay for its wrongdoings, and I_ will _set the world right. But it's a good thing I don't have to do it alone, because I've lost whatever it is this mech still has._

"I'm counting on you," he said. "To help me set up something new—something better—once we've torn down the corrupt system. But in the meantime, I need your support, even if I ask you to do things you aren't comfortable with."

I hesitated.

"Is that agreeable, Soundwave?"

I nodded.

I couldn't say no.

"What difference will it make if we attack this orn instead of next orn?"

I considered the possibilities. If our soldiers were ready now, then waiting an orn didn't make sense. The sooner we took Tarn, the sooner we'd have mecha in the mines, and the sooner we'd be able to increase our army. Furthermore, from what we knew, the Autobots weren't ready for our attack. But even though they didn't have an army yet…

"If the Autobots guess that we're preparing for an attack, Prowl could counte-ermove."

Megatron nodded. "True. Every astrosecond we wait gives him time to scheme. Can you think of any drawbacks to attacking earlier?"

I shook my helm.

 _Very well then._

Megatron spent another breem looking out over Kaon and then commed Demolishor.

" _Yes, Lord Megatron?"_

"I've changed my mind," he said. "I _do_ have orders for you. Communicate to our forces that we'll be moving out in half a joor."


	14. Tarn

Autoceptor took them on a winding, confusing path down back roads and through buildings. It was impossible to explain the new plan on the way, but Mirage assumed they'd eventually get somewhere private so he could pass on the message from Optimus.

After a little less than half a joor, Autoceptor led them into a small apartment building and keyed in the door code for one of the apartments.

He led the way, and Mirage and the other Autobot—who Mirage _still_ hadn't been properly introduced to—followed him into a small, well-kept room. As far as apartments in Tarn went, this one wasn't so bad. The walls were painted a repellent dull green, but at least they weren't bare or rusty.

Mirage recognized the two enforcers sitting at a table off to the side of the room. Clampdown and Deep Cover looked up as the door closed.

"Hey," Deep Cover said, frowning at Mirage. "'Ceptor, you can't just _bring_ mecha—"

"What happened?" Clampdown cut his brother off. "We heard about Kaltor. Do you know if he's all right, and where they took him?"

"Yeah," Autoceptor said. "Sort of."

Silence fell for a moment.

"The evacuation's over, isn't it?" Deep Cover asked dully. "Shouldn't you Autobots be back in Iacon?"

"Actually," Mirage said. "We're still going to help."

"How?" the skeptical enforcer crossed his arms. "They'll be looking for evacuation points. Besides, I'm pretty sure we got a comm. from your superiors saying the next bridges were going to be the last."

Mirage's superiors?

That was a new concept. Then again, he was essentially broke since he'd turned over everything he owned to Optimus. He supposed the commanders were his superiors…

Even so, he couldn't keep an offended tone from his voice as he explained. "We are simply switching tactics. Instead of sneaking a few mecha out at a time, we're going to have many more groundbridges, and we're going to open them all at once, using the Decepticon attack as a distraction. We'll give mecha the coordinates in two orns when Megatron's army shows up."

Deep Cover's scowl hinted that he didn't like that idea.

What a surprise.

Autoceptor didn't seem to like it either " _That's_ your new plan?" he demanded.

"It's not as tidy as the old one," Mirage said. "But we're hoping to get a large number of mecha out, and in the panic, the prospective refugees are less likely to be noticed and arrested."

"I thought you only had one groundbridge." Deep Cover said.

"I don't know all the details," Mirage said. "I'm not exactly sure how it will work, but I'm certain the Prime has a plan."

"So…" Clampdown said. "How are they going to distribute the information?"

"They'll comm. you, and you can pass on the coordinates as you see fit," Mirage said.

"In the meantime," Autoceptor said. "We should try to get that mechling free."

"Do you know where he is?" Clampdown asked again.

"Yeah," Autoceptor said. "I guess they either didn't bother to turn his tracker off…"

"Or they're expecting you to show up an break him out," Deep Cover said. "It's too dangerous. We can't risk trying to rescue him."

"Eh," Autoceptor said. "They can expect me all the frag they want. See if I care."

Mirage met his optics, and made a rash decision. "I'll help if you need me to." He'd told Optimus he couldn't rescue Kaltor. But if Autoceptor had a plan… "I will warn you… I'm a little new to this sort of thing, so you'll have to give me specific instructions."

"I can help too," the other Autobot said.

"I don't think you understand," Mirage told him. "Unless you have some sort of stealth training…"

"Ha," Autoceptor said. "Hound, why don't you show his majesty what you can do?"

The Autobot—Hound, apparently—looked hesitant for a moment, then he shrugged.

The walls suddenly disappeared, leaving only the table and a small patch of the floor. Instead of the small apartment, they were now in the middle of what seemed to be the sea of rust. Red-gray hills towered in one direction, and flat nothingness stretched out as far as you could see in the other. The scene was complete with glowing orange sunset…

Except the sun wasn't quite bright enough…

This wasn't real.

"Primus beneath…" Clampdown said softly.

The scene faded back to counters, cupboards, and green-painted walls.

"Was that… a hologram?" Mirage asked.

"Yes," Hound said. "Sort of."

Mirage stared at him. Only nobility had that kind of mod.

"Convinced?" Autoceptor asked.

Mirage turned to answer the old enforcer's question, but realized Autoceptor was looking at Deep Cover, who heaved a sigh.

"All right," Deep Cover said. "What's your plan?"

* * *

It was too early to be online. Elita fought off the vague fuzziness in the back of her helm as she tried to simultaneously listen to the conversation around the meeting table and get in touch with the mecha in charge of the groundbridge stations in Central Iacon.

Neither of those things was working very well.

"Well, we still have _some_ room in the apartments we're using for our soldiers," Chromia was saying. "But not enough for all of the refugees. Honestly, that should be the Council's problem, not ours."

" _I'm so sorry,_ " the femme on the comm. said, not sounding sorry at all. _"But he's not available right now. I don't think he's even in his office."_

" _Well, when will he be?"_ Elita asked. _"I need to speak with him."_

" _Again, I'm sorry. I don't know."_

" _You don't know? You're his secretary."_

There was a pause, and Elita shuttered her optics. She had to try to keep her annoyance out of her simulated voice. She could be patient. If she had to, she'd wait until the on-cycle, and then go personally to the groundbridge stations and demand to speak with the mecha in charge.

The other femme cut the comm.

Elita's optics flew open.

"…can't explain our plans to the Council, can we?" Ironhide asked.

"I believe that, in this case, they will be willing to help us. But I want to have alternatives in place as well."

"Well, it all depends on how many mecha come through those bridges," Chromia said.

Elita commed the groundbridge station's customer service line again and waited. She'd made it almost all the way to the top. Had the mech in charge told his employees he didn't want to talk to her?

She wouldn't be surprised.

The only owner she'd actually managed to talk to—the mech who was letting the Autobots share his license—had refused to help, insisting that he had to keep his schedule consistent. He'd argued that some mecha had paid for his groundbridges in advance and he didn't want to force them to change their schedules with so little notice.

Not even to save the lives of thousands of refugees.

"…Elita?"

"Hmm?" she asked.

"Have you been able to acquire access to groundbridges?"

"No," Elita said. "I haven't made any headway on that at all. I don't know if one orn is enough time to work this out. And I don't think I'd be able to find places in Nova Cronum either. I'm sorry. I'll keep trying, but—"

"Hold on," Mainspring put a hand to his helm. "What?"

Silence fell around the table.

"What is it?" Optimus asked at length.

Mainspring looked up. "Megatron's armies are mobilizing. It looks like he's about to start bridging them into Tarn."

 _What?_

"But we're supposed to have another orn," Ironhide said. "Why is he moving now?"

"Optimus?" Mainspring said. "We don't have groundbridges yet."

Elita watched Orion's faceplate. The fear and resignation in his optics was frightening, but she knew it didn't mean they were going to give up.

"Send them the coordinates," he said. "Tell them we'll have groundbridges ready in half a joor."

* * *

Autoceptor slowed to a stop at the corner, and Mirage followed suite.

" _What?"_ Clampdown asked over their group comm.

" _They're moving Kaltor,"_ Autoceptor said. _"I think they're taking him out of the building."_

" _Ha,"_ Clampdown said. _"So much for the plan. I told you we could just wing it. We don't even have to break in anywhere if we can take him while they're transporting him."_

" _I don't like changing plans halfway,"_ Deep Cover said.

" _Yeah,"_ Autoceptor said. _"They've left with him. I don't know where they think they're going, though… maybe the Council Hall…"_

Silence fell. Mirage waited for someone to say something about that. Was that good news? Or bad news?

He got a message from Mainspring through his comm. and opened the data file in his processor.

 _[The attack on Tarn has begun. Direct all interested civilians to go to whichever of the following coordinates is most accessible to them. There will be groundbridges there, starting in half a joor]_

Already?

Megatron was attacking already?

"Pit," Autoceptor said out loud.

"Someone needs to get everyone in the sector organized," Clampdown said.

"'Ceptor?" Deep Cover said.

"You two do that," Autoceptor said. "If they're taking Kaltor to the Council Hall, they might hand him over to Megatron. If we're going to rescue him, we have to do it before that."

"I don't think you'll make it," Deep Cover said. "But good luck."

"You two Autobots with me?" Autoceptor asked.

Mirage and Hound both voiced their willingness to help.

"Then keep up." Autoceptor took off down the road.

* * *

Megatron stepped through the groundbridge. It was evening here, and the sun had nearly set.

How fitting.

The age of the Tarn Council was at its close.

His army cheered him as he strode through the growing ranks. He raised his hand and fired his arm cannon into the sky, then leaped, transformed, and flew up above his soldiers.

There was no resistance from the mecha in the city.

That was almost disappointing.

" _Sweep the city!"_ he ordered his mecha. _"find the mines and factories, and free the oppressed! Take prisoners, but avoid killing. There will be other orns for killing. Go!"_

Then he commed his guards, as well as Straxus and Soundwave, and told them to meet him at the Council Hall.

The Tarn Council had sent him messages over the past few decaorns, begging him to let them live in return for handing him the city.

He had replied with instructions, though he hadn't made any promises.

The city receded beneath him as he rose higher into the sky, with Soundwave following. He watched from above as his army spread out, threading through the streets, joined by the citizens of Tarn. There would probably be some burning and killing, despite his orders, but that was fine, so long as the majority of his opposers were captured.

He took off toward the center of the sector, flying to where he knew he would find the government buildings. As he approached the Council Hall, he could see that mecha were crowding there, shouting, filling the courtyards and the streets in the Council Complex. Apparently, word of Megatron's arrival had spread quickly.

The doors of the Hall were guarded by the Tarn Council Guard, though they looked very nervous.

Megatron landed in front of them, powering up his arm cannon.

The crowd behind him cheered.

"Stand aside," Megatron growled, as Soundwave landed to his left.

He didn't need to say it twice. The guards stepped to the side and let Megatron pass. Were these doors locked?

Soundwave commed him. _"They're not."_

Good.

Megatron threw them open.

The crowd surged up behind him, shouting, and he led them into the building.

Megatron could see Soundwave's nervousness in the quiet mech's motions, but he knew that if they were in any sort of danger from this crowd, the mech would tell him.

Megatron crossed the antechamber, ignoring the few cowering secretaries that hadn't abandoned their posts as he led his new followers to the doors of the Council Chamber. He knew exactly where he was going, as all of these buildings had a similar layout. Truly, the early Cybertronians had lacked creativity.

When he reached the doors to the Council Chamber, he turned around and roared. "Silence!"

A satisfying, compliant hush fell over the crowd.

"My friends," Megatron said. "This orn, you are free from the yoke of oppression!"

They cheered, and then fell quiet again, expectant.

"I must deal with the filth behind this door who call themselves a Council. Search this place. Gather the guards, the secretaries, any stray government officials, and take them to the courtyard outside. You can kill them there if you want to. But allow my generals to pass through the crowd when they arrive."

He turned and shoved the doors to the Council Chamber open. Soundwave slipped in behind him, and then the doors closed, muffling the noise of the crowd.

The head Councilmech was standing on the floor, and the raised stands seemed half empty, as if some of them had decided to run.

It didn't matter. Megatron would find them and kill them too.

"Lord Megatron," the head Councilmech said. "Welcome to our city."

"Have you done as I requested?" Megatron said.

The mech glanced to the side nervously. "Yes," he said. "We blocked off the roads and carefully regulated the groundbridge stations, so that no one could leave the city."

" _He is lying."_ Soundwave said over the comm. _"Some were secretly evacuating."_

Megatron narrowed his optics. "First of all," he said. "I don't appreciate your dishonesty." He powered up his arm cannon. "Secondly," he shot the mech point blank in the helm, which left a smoking hole in his faceplate. "This is _my_ city."

The body of the councilmech slumped to the ground and Megatron looked up at the others? "Does anyone else have a better answer to that question?"

They were all silent for a moment, optics darting back and forth between each other like a flock of frightened turbo-raptors.

True to form, they didn't seem upset that their leader had offlined—only afraid for their own lives.

"How about you?" Megatron demanded, raising his cannon to aim at a councilmech.

"Lord Megatron," the mech leaned sideways, eyeing his arm cannon. "A small group of enforcers were smuggling mecha out of the city. For all we know, they may have gotten a few thousand out, but probably no more than that. We arrested one of them. We actually have him here in the Council Hall, if you'd like to question him. We were about to speak with him ourselves when you… arrived."

Megatron glanced at Soundwave, who nodded.

"Very well. Bring him in." Megatron lowered his arm cannon.

The Councilmech motioned nervously at some guards off to the side, and they slipped through a door and returned after a few astroseconds dragging a semi-conscious mech with them. His frame was covered in dents and scrapes, and there were streaks of energon here and there, clearly visible against his silvery paint job.

The guards deposited him in front of Megatron, and he looked up with fearful resignation and met Megatron's optics evenly.

"So," Megatron said. "You were smuggling mecha out of the city."

The mech didn't respond.

"How?"

The mech still didn't answer.

But Soundwave answered for him. _"The Autobots were helping them. They had a groundbridge."_

What?

"How many?" Megatron growled, barely holding back the raging fire in his emotional core. "How many did you get out?"

The mech's lip plates quirked up toward what might have been a smile "More than sixty thousand," he said. "From all across the city-state."

No.

Sixty thousand.

Sixty thousand mecha he could have used in the mines.

Gone.

He grabbed the mech and raised him up to optic level. The injured enforcer shuttered his optics with a grimace.

" _How!"_ Megatron demanded.

How had they accomplished it? How had the Autobots known to evacuate mecha in the first place?

The enforcer still said nothing, but he let out a choked, staticky whimper when Megatron's hand tightened around his neck.

"Tell me," Megatron said. "And I'll let you live. How long have you been evacuating? How long have the Autobots known we were going to attack? Did they know _when?_ "

The mech looked surprised for a moment. "I don't know what…" he choked. "…you're talking about."

" _They knew, down to the orn,"_ Soundwave said. _"They've been evacuating for almost a decaorn."_

"How?" Megatron demanded again.

"I _told_ you—"

"Shut up!" Megatron tightened his grip, and the mech's voice box let out a crackling hiss.

" _He doesn't know,"_ Soundwave said. _"I don't think he knows anything more."_

The slight edge to Soundwave's simulated voice made it obvious the mech was uncomfortable. He could probably feel this enforcer's pain.

Maybe he should stop listening then.

Megatron had been very careful about keeping his plans secret and somehow the Autobots had still discovered them.

He dropped the enforcer to the ground and the mech collapsed in a heap, clutching his throat and filling the otherwise silent room with harsh coughing.

Megatron powered up his arm cannon. "I would give you a chance to beg for your life," he said. "But it would be an insult to your misguided bravery. Thank you for bringing me valuable information."

He fired.

The mech collapsed to the ground and lay still. A puddle of blue liquid spread from his frame, reaching tendrils out to fill the stylized grooves in the floor tiles.

"Lord Megatron?" one of the Councilmechs said nervously, but Megatron ignored him and returned to the doors, which he opened wide to the crowd.

"My mecha!" he said.

They responded enthusiastically.

"These so-called Councilmechs have judged you and mistreated you and oppressed you. It is time now for them to be judged! For them to be treated as they have treated you!"

The crowd roared.

"It is time for you rise up and bathe their thrones in their own energon!"

The mecha added their thundering pedesteps to their shouting as they surged forward. Megatron transformed and flew above them, grateful for the ostentatiously high ceilings in this place.

He would leave what was left of the Council to their fate.

Right now he had other problems to deal with.

Soundwave followed him out the door and up onto the roof, where he transformed again.

"They knew," he rounded on his lanky advisor. _"How did they know?"_

Soundwave didn't flinch. "Someone must have leaked the information."

Megatron narrowed his optics. He had thought his influence over Soundwave was enough to ensure the mech's loyalty, but was it? "Who? Who told them?"

Soundwave shrugged.

"Who told them?" Megatron demanded again. "You know. You _have_ to know, you can read their minds!" he powered up his cannon and aimed it at Soundwave's screen. Still the mech didn't flinch. Traitor. It was him. It had to be him.

"Me-e or Jazz," Soundwave said. "Or one of your three ba-attle commande-ers. One o-of them could have let it sli-ip a-a-acidentally-y."

"Was it you?"

"No."

"How can I trust you?"

Soundwave shook his helm. "You ca-an't afford not to. Besides… y-you know I'm lo-oyal."

Megatron powered down his cannon. "But you would have known. If it was any of them, you would have _known,_ unless they told someone accidentally. Was it Demolishor? He's certainly stupid enough… and I can see Straxus getting overcharged and saying something… but how did it get back to the Autobots so quickly? We only told everyone eight orns ago."

Soundwave looked down.

"Do you have a theory?"

"I-if it was on purpose…" Soundwave said. "The-en it was Jazz."

Megatron narrowed his optics. "How could he possibly hide that from you?"

"He has pra-actice."

"What do you mean?"

"Secondary school."

Megatron frowned. He had heard Jazz and Soundwave had been rivals when they were younglings. But that still didn't seem like enough. How could Jazz completely hide the fact that he was working against Megatron?

"Nice story," he said. "Prove it to me and I'll start trusting you again."

He transformed and launched off of the roof. He thought he recognized Straxus and his guards pushing through the crowd.

Megatron should join them. He needed to introduce the citizens of Tarn to their new leader.

* * *

Mirage watched the slender jet take off from the roof and circle the courtyard as Megatron's bulkier alt mode landed below.

"That's Soundwave," he muttered, chills going down his back plating. "We need to leave."

There was no way they'd have been able to push through this crowd anyway.

"Who?" Hound asked.

Pit.

If Soundwave realized Mirage was here…

"Autoceptor," Mirage put a hand on his shoulder. "We can't rescue Kaltor, we have to go before that freak finds us."

"Sure," Autoceptor said, turning around and glaring at Mirage. "It doesn't matter. The mechling's dead already. Offlined half a breem ago."

Mirage stared. "What?"

"I _have_ told you," Autoceptor growled. "He's got a tracker that sends his vitals directly to my comm. He's _dead._ Come on, let's get to those coordinates and get the frag out of here."

Slightly stunned, Mirage followed Autoceptor's lead in transforming and driving away. Mecha rushed through the streets in all directions. They sped past a ragtag group smashing in the windows of a store, and another chasing down a screaming femme who had an expensive-looking paint job.

Autoceptor took them down to a lower level of the city, where there were even more mecha running around, breaking things, attacking each other.

Mirage had never seen anything like this, but it didn't seem to faze Autoceptor at all. The older mech somehow managed to steer them clear of trouble, all the way down to the coordinates, where a large group of frightened looking mecha were waiting.

They met up with Deep Cover and Clampdown, who looked grim enough that they probably already knew about Kaltor.

Mirage could still barely believe it. They'd all seemed so confident that they'd be able to save the young enforcer, but none of them looked surprised. He glanced at Hound.

Hound met his optics for a moment, but then looked away again, with enough sorrow in his expression that Mirage had to take a moment and fight off the answering wave of realization in his own emotional core.

"We have about ten breems," Deep Cover said after the long, unpleasant pause. "I'm glad you made it."

"Yeah," Autoceptor said. "Now let's just hope the Autobots follow through on this, or we're all slagged."

More mecha filed in from various dark corridors, and the crowd grew.

Ten breems passed.

Nothing happened.

* * *

High Councilor Halogen had been rudely awakened from his recharge when his assistant had decided to make him aware of the Decepticon attack in Tarn.

He had been displeased at first, but now he was grateful. He didn't want to miss this golden opportunity.

"Let him in," Halogen said.

The handful of Councilmechs around him were just barely enough to ratify decisions, which was good, because Halogen was about to make some.

The Council Chamber doors opened and a young red and blue mech entered the Council Hall and strode purposefully to the center of the room.

"Optimus Prime," Halogen said. "Welcome. We haven't seen you here for a while. One would almost think you've been ignoring our requests to speak with you."

Optimus didn't seem interested in discussing that. "Councilor Halogen, the Decepticons are attacking Tarn."

"We are aware," Halogen said. "How is your evacuation going?"

"We need more groundbridges."

"Oh," Halogen said. "That's unfortunate."

"You offered to supply us with your resources," Optimus said. "In order to rescue more mecha from Tarn… I humbly request your aid in requisitioning groundbridges in Iacon for a joor."

Halogen raised an optic ridge. "Really? I was under the impression you didn't want to make use of our resources, for fear we would use our influence over you to control you. Isn't that correct?"

"We do not have time for this," Optimus said. "We can work out the negotiations later, but the mecha in Tarn must be evacuated _now_ before Megatron realizes they're gathering."

Halogen measured the desperation on the young mech's faceplate. He already had more influence over the Autobots than Optimus would likely acknowledge. Halogen had the key to Vector Sigma. The ultimate decision about whether this mech would ever be a fully-realized Prime was in his hands.

"You ousted the mech we recommended as your second in command," Halogen said. "We have no ties to your organization. What is it to us if you can't relocate mecha from Tarn?"

"You promised us the use of your resources."

"That was back when we had something to do with your army," Halogen said. "Perhaps if you would allow us to instate someone else as your second in command…"

Optimus hesitated. "Do you have someone in mind?"

"Not at the moment," Halogen said. There were actually several good options, but he didn't think Optimus would like any of them. "However, if you are willing to agree to allowing a Council-affiliated representative into the ranks of your commanders, I think I may be able to pull a few strings and get you access to some groundbridges."

Optimus hesitated.

"As you have stated before," Halogen said. "You do not have an abundance of time to make this decision. We will not help you if you will not work with us."

Halogen expected him to waste time attempting to appeal to the Council's sympathy. After all, the would-be refugees could be killed under Megatron's rule.

But the young Prime must be learning, because he didn't.

Optimus was far enough away that Halogen couldn't see his expression clearly, but he didn't like how hard the mech seemed to be thinking about the proposal. This naïve archivist was growing too cautious too quickly. The Council would have to ensure his allegiance before it was too late.

"No," Optimus said, looking up with the dawning light of realization on his faceplate. "If you won't help us, we'll search for another option. Thank you for your time, Councilor Halogen."

Optimus turned and headed for the door he'd come through just a breem ago.

Halogen narrowed his optics. "Do not walk away from our generous offer," he said. "You cannot fight without the support of the Council. You cannot win this war without our help."

Orion stopped and turned around to face him. "Honestly, Councilor, if we can't win this war without _your_ help, we don't _deserve_ to win it. Thousands of mecha may offline this orn, because of your petty refusal to keep your promises. If they do, their deaths will be on your helm."

And without another word, he turned and left.

Halogen scowled.

"Well," Ratbat said. "That was unexpected."

"What will we do now?" Senator Decimus asked. "Weren't you relying on him making this agreement?"

Halogen shook his helm. "We don't need to do anything. We have made certain the managers at the groundbridge stations won't listen to them. We are their _only_ option. Whether or not he blames us for what happens in Tarn, he is the one who will feel guilty, knowing he could have prevented it by working with us. Besides, we can find other ways to influence him."

* * *

" _Mirage, it's long past time for you to come home—especially since you said Soundwave is in the city."_

Mirage sighed, looking out over the gathering crowd.

" _Mirage?"_ Mainspring's voice said.

"I know," he muttered. "Give me a breem."

"What was that?" Deep Cover asked.

"I have to go," Mirage said.

"They can't get a bridge for us, can they?" the enforcer asked. "We're sitting turbo-ducks in this cave."

"I'm sorry," Mirage said. "Don't give up just yet."

"I can try to hide us all if the Decepticons find us," Hound said.

"Not if Soundwave comes to look for you," Mirage said. "But I'm sure that would be helpful otherwise." He wanted to ask the mech where he'd gotten that hologram mod, especially since there was a possibility he'd never have another chance…

" _Mirage, you can't stay there. You know too much and we can't risk letting the Decepticons capture you."_ Mainspring insisted.

"The Prime won't give up until he's gotten you all out safely," Mirage promised. "Good luck."

"Where are you going?" Deep Cover asked.

"I can't risk being captured." Mirage didn't want to admit that he had a free ticket to safety, so he didn't give them time to ask any more questions before walking away, weaving through the crowd.

He left the cavern and drove for a few klicks until he found a secluded spot.

"All right," he said to Mainspring over the comm. "I'm ready. Do you have my coordinates?"

" _Yes. Give us half a breem."_

Mirage stood waiting in the darkness for several astroseconds, before a small groundbridge opened in front of him. He walked through, feeling guilty and wishing again he could bring the others. His personal bridge was attuned to his spark signal, though, and no one else could travel through it.

He stepped out of the bridge into the familiar groundbridge room. Murals on the walls depicted city-scapes, mountains, and canyons—all the places a noblemech might like to visit.

The mech operating the groundbridge—one of Mirage's few remaining servants—nodded to him. "Welcome home, your lordship."

The title felt wrong at the moment. Mirage ignored him and left the room. He walked past his vaults and up the stairs to the floor where most of the Autobots were staying. He headed straight for the meeting room, and ran into Optimus just before they reached it.

"Welcome back, Mirage," Optimus said.

The Prime looked worried. That was a bad sign.

They entered the meeting room together. Optimus went to sit between Ironhide and Elita, and Mirage found an empty spot between Mainspring and Red Alert.

"Thank you for coming back," Mainspring muttered.

Mirage crossed his arms. Did they have bridges yet? He wanted to ask, but wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Well?" Ironhide asked. "What did the Council say?"

"They won't help us," Optimus said. "Not unless we give them more influence over our army."

Silence fell for a moment.

"Maybe it's worth it," Mirage put in. "There are thousands of mecha in Tarn, waiting to be rescued. We can't leave them there, just because we don't want to be affiliated with the Council."

"You let the Council get a pede in the door and everything goes to pit," Ironhide said. "That's too dangerous."

Mirage glared at him. Ironhide glared back.

"If I may..." Prowl said stiffly.

They all looked at him

"I do have one idea. I don't think you'll all _like_ the idea, but seeing as we're almost out of alternatives…"

"If you had an idea you should have said so earlier," Chromia snapped. "Just spit it out, would you?"

"I was relatively certain it would get shot down," Prowl glared coldly at Chromia.

"Prowl?" Optimus said, cutting off Chromia's retort. "What _is_ your idea?"

"Well," Prowl said, with a flick of his doorwings. "We do have an army. Granted they've only had one orn of training, but if we play our cards right, there'll be no need for any _actual_ fighting…"

* * *

Megatron flew through the caves underneath Tarn. Soundwave had found a mech who knew the coordinates where escapees were gathering. Supposedly, the Autobots were going to open a groundbridge there for the citizens to flee through.

He'd lost patience and left his soldiers behind. Most of his flyers were afraid to navigate the narrow passages in alt mode for fear of crashing into the walls, and he didn't have any seekers.

If he got there fast enough, though, he might be able to single-handedly prevent mecha from going through the bridge. At the very least he could kill some of them on their way out.

There was a familiar fluctuating green light around a corner. A groundbridge. The groundbridge was open.

Megatron fought the urge to speed up before the turn, and flew around the bend and out into an open cavern full of mecha.

A few below him tried to dodge out of the way as he skimmed low over the Tarnians filing through the bridge.

They were escaping.

He opened fire into the packed crowd, relishing their screaming and confusion as they all tried to rush to the edges of the cavern.

He needed them away from that groundbridge. If he could distract them long enough, his army would catch up. There was no point in capturing them—there were a few hundred here, at most—but he could take out his frustration on them.

He flew up toward the ceiling and then turned down to make another pass, but stopped.

The cavern below him was empty.

Empty.

Bare floor, no groundbridge, no crowd of mecha.

He could still hear them. He could hear someone shouting for them all to get through the bridge as quickly as possible.

But he could see none of them.

What was going on? Had he somehow flown into a different cave? The dimensions of this one were similar, but the ground looked closer.

Confused, he flew low to the rocky surface and the volume of the noise increased.

Interesting. He wished he had Soundwave with him, but he had told the mech to stay above ground and keep looking for more mecha who knew about the evacuation.

He transformed to land, but instead of hitting the ground his pedes went right through it. The ground disappeared, revealing the crowd below.

What?

Mecha beneath him cleared out of his way, screaming again as he fell and landed among them. He barely had time to observe his surroundings before everything went dark. The only light he could see was what looked like a reflection of his own red optics.

He turned up their brightness, frowning when he discovered he was inside of what appeared to be a metal cylinder.

Where had that come from?

The ground seemed to have been some sort of illusion. Was this another illusion?

Cautiously, he raised his arm cannon, powering it up.

He fired and the shot went right through the smooth wall, causing it to disappear.

A mech in front of him cried out and fell to the ground, clutching the smoking socket that had once been his shoulder.

"Stop!" Megatron shouted. "No one else goes through that bridge!"

There was a moment of frightened silence, save for the moaning mech who'd lost his arm.

Motion caught Megatron's optic, and he glanced to the side as a mech leaped toward him. He fired at the offender, but the shot went right through and the mech disappeared. Several others in the cave gasped.

Something heavy slammed into Megatron from behind and he stumbled forward, but didn't lose his footing. With a growl, he reached around and grabbed the mech who'd jumped him.

"Through the bridge you idiots!" someone shouted from elsewhere in the cave. "Don't just stand there! Go!"

Megatron tore his attacker from his back and slammed him into the ground, wincing as the mech's armor held strong instead of crumpling. The mech had enforcement insignias on his shoulders.

Another one of these. This mech had probably been helping throughout the entire evacuation.

"Clampdown!" someone nearby shouted, and Megatron looked up to see another enforcer racing in his direction.

He fired his arm cannon, aiming right for the spark chamber of the mech he was kneeling on. The mech screamed, but didn't die instantly. Stupid enforcer armor.

Megatron fired again, and this time his would-be attacker fell limp.

The other mech roared, charging.

Megatron stood and his integrated blade slid out of his arm.

Around him appeared numerous copies of the mech racing toward him, but Megatron was through with being fooled.

Only one of those was real—only one of them had real pain and fury behind his optics.

* * *

Autoceptor could almost feel it himself when the gladiator's blade slid through Deep Cover's chassis. He heard the Autobot schoolteacher gasp next to him, but he was frozen in place.

Idiots. Fragging idiots, all of them.

Deep Cover made no sound as Megatron pulled the now energon-streaked blade from him. He slumped to the ground, though, and the gladiator neatly sliced his helm off, then looked up.

They hadn't even put a scratch on him.

The last few mecha were going through the bridge now. Even the mech who'd lost an arm, and a couple of mecha who'd been shot during Megatron's entrance were being helped through by their fellow citizens.

A hazy sort of barrier sprang up between them and the warlord, and through it, Autoceptor could see that Hound had filled Megatron's side of the cavern with a vast crowd and several distant, glowing groundbridges.

The gladiator roared and started firing randomly, but his arm cannon seemed to need time to power up, and Hound was filling the space with holograms faster than Megatron could clear them.

The last few citizens went through the bridge.

"Let's go," Autoceptor said, glancing over at Hound. The schoolteacher had a blank look in his optics, and he was trembling.

"Hey," Autoceptor hissed, grabbing the mech's shoulder and shaking them. "Come on!"

Hound blinked and stared at him.

Autoceptor growled and dragged him toward the bridge. "Through," he said, shoving the mech toward the glowing portal.

"What about…"

"I'll follow you, just get in there!"

Hound nodded and started to through the bridge.

Autoceptor glanced over his shoulder once to see the gladiator staring directly at him.

Then he sprinted through the bridge after the shell-shocked school teacher and came out on the other side.

"Shut the bridge!" he shouted. "Now! Shut it!"

The stunned-looking groundbridge operator obligingly shut the bridge, and Autoceptor stood in front of it as it closed, not daring to vent.

Finally, the glowing portal disappeared completely and Autoceptor shut his optics, relief warring with the loss.

He'd left his friends behind. Granted, they'd already been offline, but…

It should have been him, frag it.

"Was that everyone?" someone asked from off to the side.

Autoceptor turned to look at the mech standing there. He was leaning gingerly on a rifle and seemed none too sure of himself.

"Yeah," the old enforcer said.

"You can follow the others out of the groundbridge station," the rifle mech said, gesturing toward where the stragglers from Autoceptor's group were limping away, The next groundbridge over was still active and a stream of mecha were coming through, directed by more mecha with weapons.

What were the weapons for?

What the frag was going on here?

Autoceptor rounded on the mech with the rifle. "Where's the Prime?"

The mech looked startled. "I… don't know. I… think he actually _is_ at this station, but..."

"Well, find out. I need to talk to him," Autoceptor growled.

Beside him, Hound sank to his knees.

"I don't know if—"

"Shut up then," Autoceptor said, then turned his attention to the primary school teacher. "Mechling, you all right? You didn't get hit did you?"

Hound shook his helm.

"Come on," Autoceptor held down a hand. "Let's get you out of here and find a medic to take a look at you."

"I'm not hurt," Hound muttered.

"Don't care," Autoceptor said. "Let's go."

Hound probably hadn't seen anyone offline before and Autoceptor had to find someone to pass the mechling off to before he hunted down the Prime.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Ugh, it took me like a MONTH to edit this chapter. Good thing I had a buffer.

2\. Thanks for reading and reviewing and all that! It is much appreciated.


	15. Potential

Orion watched as refugees poured out of the groundbridge station. Several of the locations had been completely cleared and the bridges had been closed. Other groups were still coming through. They would be finished in less than half a joor and he would have to figure out where to put everyone.

Mainspring commed him and he answered.

" _Optimus, the enforcer in charge of the Tarn side of the evacuation would like to talk to you. Can I direct him to your location?"_

" _Yes,"_ Orion said.

That was good. He was glad that mech had made it here safely.

He looked out over the crowd. The sun dome hadn't come on yet, which meant it was technically still the off-cycle. He was relieved that this was over now, and he could recharge on a normal schedule, though...

That was a selfish reason to be grateful…

A mech broke off from the crowd and headed purposefully in their direction. He didn't look happy, but Orion recognized him, and warned Ironhide and the other guards around him to stand down as the enforcer approached.

"Good orn, Autoceptor," Orion said.

"You promised us groundbridges half a joor ago," Autoceptor growled. "And what's with all these mecha who can't hold their fragging weapons right? Are those your soldiers? Are we prisoners, Prime?"

Orion started to speak, but Prowl cut him off.

"No," he said, doorwings flaring. "We had some trouble getting cooperation from the groundbridge stations, so we were forced to commandeer them."

Autoceptor narrowed his optics. "You're that Praxian who orchestrated this whole thing aren't you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Prowl said. "I don't know why you sound so upset about it. I'd think you'd be grateful that we got everyone out."

"We didn't get everyone out," Autoceptor hissed through gritted denta. "The Decepticons found my group as we were going through the bridge. All my friends _offlined_ because you weren't ready. Because you couldn't keep your promises and get us those bridges in time. And you were _wrong_ about when Megatron would attack."

Prowl didn't seem to have a response for that, so Optimus stepped forward.

"I am sorry to hear about your friends," he said. "You're right—we could have done better…"

"Hold on—" Ironhide said, but Orion cut him off.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

Autoceptor looked like he was about to start yelling for a moment, but then he deflated. "No. There isn't." He looked back over the crowd. "I hope you've got somewhere for us to stay, though."

"We're working on it," Orion said.

Autoceptor nodded. "Guess I won't take up any more of your time then."

Orion watched as the old mech turned his back on them and stumped away toward the crowd.

He sighed, spark sinking. He'd known they wouldn't be able to save everyone. Many mecha in Tarn probably would have taken the opportunity to leave if they could have. But somehow it was worse to know that mecha had offlined because they hadn't been fast enough with the groundbridges. Part of him wanted to call the mech back, to demand to know how many were killed, and what their designations were…

He'd have to try and find out later.

He stared out over the crowd. According to the latest report, they'd saved thousands already. But now they had made enemies of all the groundbridge station managers. Elita had cautioned him against this course of action.

But he hadn't wanted to make a deal with the Council.

Would that have been better, though? Would it have been faster? Would they have been able to save more mecha?

He didn't know. Maybe he would never know.

Elita commed him over an internal frequency and he answered.

" _I was just thinking about you,"_ he admitted.

" _Really?"_

" _I'm sorry I didn't listen earlier. I'm wondering if I should have taken the deal with the Council. We might have been able to save more mecha if we'd opened the bridges earlier. And... what if we lose permission to construct our own groundbridge station?"_

" _I… think you did the right thing, and I trust your judgment, Orion. I was only pointing out the downsides to Prowl's plan… In any case, I'm comming you because I've been contacted by a lot of news stations and reporters in the last ten breems or so. The media would really like a statement from you."_

Right. Orion took in a deep vent and sighed it out. "I have to go to the news and explain things." He said for the benefit of his guards.

Ironhide crossed his arms. "Sounds like a picnic."

" _I can talk to some of them now,"_ Orion said. _"Where should I meet them?"_

* * *

Megatron streaked over the city-state of Tarn in the last light of dusk. trying to fly off some of his frustration. They had lost more than seventy thousand mecha due to the Autobots' meddling.

Seventy thousand mecha who he could have sent to the mines and the factories. Seventy thousand mecha—many of whom might join the Autobots now out of gratitude.

And to make matters worse, he _still_ wasn't entirely sure what had happened in that cave where he'd found the escaping mecha. He had lied to his commanders and told them he'd been too late and everyone had been gone already. He didn't want to admit that someone had gotten the better of him by making him see things that weren't there. He might talk to Soundwave about it eventually, but for now it was too embarrassing and troubling.

Also, he'd offlined two of the escapees instead of capturing them. Those two might have had useful information.

Straxus commed him.

" _What?"_ he growled.

" _Uh, so…"_

" _More bad news, I assume."_

Straxus was silent.

Megatron growled, tilting up to fly higher in the atmosphere. The sun had gone down, leaving only a dim glow on the horizon.

He had won, but he had also lost.

" _What is it?"_ he demanded. _"Just spit it out."_

" _So, you know how you were hoping to find some more intelligent gladiators to be guards or commanders or whatever?"_

" _Yes."_

" _That might not be… you know, you should come see this place for yourself."_

Megatron received a set of coordinates from him and changed course. He flew lower as he neared his objective. The buildings were taller here—soot and rust covered their paint and his vents registered low levels of toxic gasses in the atmosphere.

He landed and walked toward the large black building the coordinates seemed to be leading him to.

His soldiers, standing over slaughtered, dark-painted guardsmechs, bowed to him as he passed. The great double doors of the building hung open, and had gouges and holes in them.

He strode inside and met Straxus there in a foul-smelling hallway.

"So," Straxus said. "Welcome to the largest gladiator arena in Tarn. Let me introduce you to the contestants."

Megatron followed his subordinate down the hall, past the offline frames of more guards.

Maybe it was just the dim lighting, or the stench, but this place made him uneasy. Not afraid—he was almost never afraid—but alert, on edge.

Scuttling sounds in the distance bespoke infestations of turbo-rats or maybe even scraplets. And the whole place reeked of old energon, rancid high grade, and rust.

Straxus reached a heavy-looking set of double doors. He grabbed the handles and threw them open, then gestured for Megatron to go through.

Megatron fought the urge to power up his arm cannon as he stepped into the vast room full of cages. His tanks churned, and he had to turn down his olfactory sensitivity so the scent wasn't overpowering.

He walked past cages, spark sinking as he studied the pitiful creatures within. They stared back with frightened, maddened optics.

At first glance, they acted like symbiots, but they were too large on average, and their frame types were unmistakably those of mecha.

These were mecha.

He stopped at the fifth cage in the row. The being within rushed at him, screaming with fury. It clawed at the bars, activating the cage's energy field. Instead of deterring the creature, the field seemed to enrage it further and it threw itself at the front of the cage again and again, screaming each time plasmatic energon from the field coursed through its emaciated frame.

Megatron took a step back, and the creature finally seemed to give up. It backed away to the corner of its cage, growling pitifully.

Megatron sighed, clenching his fists. He had needed resources from this city. He needed more commanders, and more mecha who he could send to the mines. All he'd gotten was a new horde of volunteer soldiers and these crazed monsters.

He kept walking down the row. The room was vast. Larger cages on the other side probably held giant symbiots and perhaps some dinobots or transports.

He hadn't realized how good his life in the pits of Kaon had been. True, he'd been a slave, but he'd been praised, pampered, and rewarded for success. Life had only gotten difficult when he'd rebelled, and even then they'd given him energon, medical care, and upgrades.

He could imagine the creatures in these cages fighting desperately on a dirty arena floor, ripping each other to pieces. How quickly did they go mad like this? How long had these mecha been here, and how were they still alive?

He stopped again in front of one of the cages and met the flickering blue optics of a large femme. She had rust on her shoulder and a crack in her faceplate that ran from the top, through her optic, and all the way down to the corner of her mouth.

She was quiet, but there was no recognition in her gaze, and as he approached she crouched down in a defensive stance, warning him off with a dull glare.

He reached for the cell door.

"Be careful," a voice rasped behind him. "Some of us are wild."

Megatron froze, then turned to see a large mech restrained in a cage across the aisle. He had scars as well, and energy chains held him against the back of his cage.

"Megatronus... of Kaon," the mech whispered. It looked as if talking took him great effort. Those energy chains must have stasis lock functions that made it difficult to speak. "We did not dare… hope you would… come."

"I am here to free you," Megatron said, approaching the mech. This one seemed salvageable. "Are there others like you, still capable of thought and speech?"

The mech grimaced. "A few," he gasped. "Not… many in this room."

Megatron frowned at the lock on the cage door.

"The guards…" the restrained mech said. "Keys… in subspace."

Megatron nodded and commed Straxus.

" _Yeah, boss?"_

" _The guards should have key cards or something in their subspace pockets. Bring some to me."_

" _Uh… sure."_

Megatron cut the comm. He didn't need to hear Straxus's doubts.

The chained mech stared at him out of dull green optics. He was in somewhat better shape than many of the other prisoners, but he still had injuries.

Megatron wanted to ask questions, but the mech was having too much trouble talking. He'd have to wait.

He turned to look out over the cages. Some mecha were screaming, others whimpering. Some were curled up on the floor of their cages. Some of them were probably offline.

This place was worse than anything he'd ever seen. This place was worse than the mines. If he had had any doubts about what he was trying to do…

He had to put an end to this sort of thing. Orion could never understand. Even if he saw the cages and their tortured occupants, he wouldn't comprehend. He had never even been in a life and death situation. He'd never wondered whether the next pulse of his spark would be the last. He had never crouched in a pool of his own energon, praying for the pain to extinguish his spark.

He wouldn't last five breems in a place like this.

A Decepticon soldier came scurrying up to him, looking nervous. He handed Megatron a ring of data chips and bowed.

"Go," Megatron said, and the mech turned and fled amid threatening shouts from the caged prisoners.

"The… red key," the chained mech said.

Megatron flipped through to a data chip with red paint on the sides. He inserted it into the lock, and a screen blinked on, giving him options to de-energize the cage or unlock it.

He powered down the cage first.

The mech inside sagged forward against the chains with a sigh of relief, then looked up at Megatron. "Thank you," he whispered. "I can barely believe… Are the rumors true, then? Did you conquer Kaon?"

Megatron nodded and unlocked the door. A loud, abrasive beeping noise filled the room. The prisoner winced, and those nearby screeched, rushing to the front of their cages or retreating to the back.

The door swung open, and the noise ceased.

"Are there keys for your chains?" Megatron asked.

In answer, the mech shuttered his optics and heaved forward with a roar. The chains snapped and he stumbled out of the cage.

Impressive.

The mech was about as large as Megatron, maybe a little taller and thinner. He stared Megatron down, meeting his gaze evenly. There was some wildness in the mech's optics, but it was a calculating, controlled wildness. He'd have to ask Soundwave later if this mech was trustworthy. For now he was just grateful to find _someone_ promising.

Megatron broke the silence. "This is nothing like the gladiator pits I've visited before."

The other mech shook his helm. "At the beginning, they have you fight wild symbiots and the insane. Most die in their first fight. But if you manage to survive they eventually bring you here, torture you, make you one of their monsters."

He had almost no inflection in his voice, but it was very different from the way Soundwave spoke. When Soundwave spoke, he showed his emotions in the way he moved, but with this mech there was nothing to indicate his mood.

That might be a bad sign.

"What is your designation?" Megatron asked.

"I don't remember," the mech said. "I only have the one they gave me."

Megatron frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. Long enough they've stopped pitting me against their smaller beasts. Not long enough for them to break me though. There are others, elsewhere, who haven't lost their sanity yet. Most of these in this room are beyond saving."

Megatron nodded.

"If you use the black key, the cages are programmed to kill them."

"I have other things to see to," Megatron said, handing the gladiator the keys. "Can I leave that decision-making to you? Or will it be difficult to kill these mecha?"

The mech shook his helm. "Death loses its meaning."

"It does," Megatron agreed. "I want you to keep anyone salvageable alive. Put the rest out of their misery. I'll return early next orn at which point I would like you and any others you decide to keep to accompany me to Kaon."

The mech nodded. "Thank you, Megatronus."

"You say you do not know your designation? What would you like to be called?"

The mech looked thoughtful for a moment, and the sudden presence of emotion on his previously blank faceplate was almost eerie.

"I suppose the one they gave me in the fights will do well enough," he said. "Overlord. I am Overlord."

* * *

Prowl's back was turned on the rest of the meeting room so he could watch the big screen on the wall. He could still hear the other commanders behind him—shifting, venting—as they watched the news.

They really should have started the meeting already, but Orion wasn't back yet and no one wanted to start without him.

The former archivist's faceplate filled almost half the screen and was looking directly into the camera, which, from Prowl's perspective, made it seem like he was looking over their helms, staring off into the distance as he spoke.

"…groundbridge stations, while regrettable, became necessary after both the Council and the station managers themselves refused to assist their fellow Cybertronians. My soldiers have vacated the stations now that the crisis is over, and the groundbridges are currently operating as normal. I do not doubt I will be criticized for my actions, but my duty as Prime is to protect the mecha of Cybertron, including the mecha of Tarn who were rescued from Megatron's attack before the on-cycle began. There are many thousands of refugees from Tarn in Nova Cronum and Iacon, and I call upon the governments and citizens of those city-states to welcome our brothers and sisters with open arms and sparks…"

The door of the meeting room opened and Prowl's doorwings picked up the pedesteps of a larger mech—probably Orion himself.

His suspicions were confirmed when he heard the mech sit in the chair beside Elita, and the two of them muttered greetings to one another.

"…furthermore, Megatron has now shown that he is not satisfied with ruling Kaon alone. His intentions appear to include spreading violence across the world. We must work together to stop him."

The video cut to a reporter, and Prowl used that as an excuse to shut the news off, and turn his chair around.

"We should hear what they said about the speech," Elita said, then turned to Orion. "I mean, it was a very good speech, but I'm sure they'll find something to complain about in it and I want to be prepared to answer questions."

"We need to get on with the meeting," Prowl said. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to watch the news later."

Elita frowned at him and Prowl turned away.

He was still terrible at the whole getting along with mecha and being polite thing.

But it was true—they didn't have time to watch the news right now. What was he supposed to do? Ignore everyone's lack of priorities so they felt better about themselves?

Mecha had offlined this orn because he'd done that—because he hadn't suggested they take the groundbridge stations by force from the beginning.

"So," Mainspring said. "Shall we? Do we have a final count of refugees?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "74,309. We had about twelve thousand this orn. It seems the Decepticons did catch up to one group, but most of them made it through anyway. Two Tarnians were offlined, and thirteen were injured. Other than that, there were no casualties—at least on our end."

Mainspring nodded. "Good. I would add that all of the Autobots helping with the evacuation are accounted for, and have returned to Iacon."

"In other words," Prowl said. "Overall, it was a success. Except for the fact that Megatron now has control of two of the largest and most productive energon mines on the planet."

The room fell silent.

"Way to put a damper on things," Ironhide grumbled.

"At the present," Prowl continued, "More than a third of the energon consumed by Cybertronian kind comes from mines in Kaon, Slaughter City, Tarn, and Blaster City. And it seems logical that Megatron will seek to take the others as well, since they are geographically close to Kaon."

Silence again.

"We get _that_ much of our energon from the south pole?" Chromia asked.

"I'd encourage you to do some research on the topic," Prowl said. "Since you _are_ supposedly in charge of resources."

Chromia narrowed her optics, but Orion spoke before she could snap at him.

"Thank you," he said. "As I'm sure you all understand, this puts us in a dangerous position. We couldn't stand up against Megatron this time, but we need to prevent him from conquering any more cities."

Elita nodded. "Since we found out Tarn was in danger, I've made contact with the other large city-states near Kaon. Simfur isn't a likely target at this point, so they aren't interested in our help, and Gygax is much the same way. Slaughter City and Blaster City, on the other hand, are very willing to accept our protection."

"We need to train our soldiers first, though," Ironhide said. "We can't send them into battle yet."

" _That's_ for certain," Ratchet growled. "Half of them are still recovering from those factory death-houses."

They continued talking, trying to figure out how long it would take to train their soldiers, trying to decide whether to keep them in Iacon, or preemptively send them to one of the endangered city-states. They talked about what to do with the refugees—where they would live, how the Autobots would support them.

Chromia seemed very concerned about their financial situation—apparently they were running through Mirage's credit faster than she'd expected.

By the time the meeting was over, they had still only settled a few issues and Prowl only had a few breems before it would be time to go to meet with Yoketron.

He checked his messages, skimming through them to look for anything important, and then went to his office to jot down a list of things he needed to do after his training.

It was too long. He'd have to stay up late this off-cycle to get all of it done. At least he could recharge through the off-cycle now that the whole issue with Tarn was over.

Landquake commed him and he answered. _"I'm coming,"_ he said before the transport could announce his arrival.

Prowl left the tower and met Landquake outside. He tried to clear his processor a little on the ride to the transport's apartment. Yoketron would expect him to be able to meditate, and he could never do that with all of the noise currently running through his processor.

Landquake dropped him off at the apartment building, but didn't follow him in, claiming he had other errands to run for Yoketron. Prowl walked to the apartment on his own, and pressed the entry request button.

It was Yoketron himself who came to the door this time. Prowl stepped inside, looking for Petra. She was sitting cross-legged on the too-large table, playing a board game with an older mech Prowl had never seen before.

A glance at the board as he approached them told him that the old mech was obviously letting Petra win.

"Good orn, Prowl," the petite femme said, glancing in his direction.

"You might want to move that piece on beta eight two hexes northwest," Prowl told her.

"All right," Petra said with a confused frown, and moved the piece.

"Prowl this is Kup," Yoketron said. "Kup, this is the mech who passed on the message that you were in trouble."

"Ah," Kup said, scowling at the board. He moved a piece, then looked up at Prowl. "Good to meet you."

"And you," Prowl said.

"Oh!" Petra said, and then moved another piece. "I get it now. Thank you, Prowl."

Even if the older mech tried, he probably couldn't win now.

Prowl glanced at him again, and Kup shook his helm, muttering under his breath.

"We should all talk for a few breems when the Prime gets here," Yoketron said. "But for now, we have work to do. Come, Prowl."

Prowl followed him out to the crystal garden. They sat across from each other in the courtyard.

"So," Yoketron said. "I hear your evacuation of Tarn was successful."

Prowl looked down, recalling the old enforcer who had come up and complained that his friends had been offlined.

Prowl could have prevented that. "If…" he trailed off.

Yoketron was silent, waiting for him to continue.

Prowl sighed. "If we'd been just two breems faster, we could have pulled it off without any casualties. I didn't say anything—I _thought_ about taking the groundbridges by force, but I didn't think Orion would agree to it unless there were no other options. But if I'd brought it up earlier, then even if he didn't want to do it, we might have gotten started a few breems earlier…"

Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "Mecha offlined?"

"Two of them," Prowl said. "I don't know all the details, but the Decepticons caught up with their group as they were going through the bridge."

"I see," Yoketron said.

"And I know they say you can't save everyone, but… that doesn't mean I don't want to try."

Yoketron seemed to consider that for a moment. He always, always seemed to think things through before he spoke. Prowl should try to do that more often.

"I believe that is a noble goal," Yoketron said. "But there is danger to it."

"You _did_ tell me I'll have to accomplish the impossible."

"And you will—I am sure of it. But if you're going to try to fight a war without casualties, you'll have to be very careful not to get discouraged."

Prowl looked down. "I guess since mecha have offlined already, I've already failed."

"Prowl?"

"Yes."

"That is _exactly_ what I just told you not to do."

Prowl smiled slightly.

"It won't be an easy balance to strike, but in order to do your best work, you must not dwell on the past. The past can be a valuable learning tool, but it is not an accurate measurement of worth or ability."

Prowl nodded.

"Failure is only the end of the road if you choose to turn around and go back."

"You have so much confidence in me," Prowl muttered. "It's inspiring."

Yoketron sighed. "Prowl, you _are_ very talented and brilliant, and I am sorry if I made it sound like I doubt you. In truth, I simply want to make sure you understand… You took part in saving more than seventy-thousand mecha. If you consider that a failure because you lost two, then you must learn to _overcome_ feelings of failure. You must accept that failure is not a terrible thing. If we never failed, we'd never grow."

Prowl tilted his helm to the side. "I'm not sure…"

"Well, I am," Yoketron said. "How did the ornly meeting go?"

"It went well," Prowl said. "I don't think I insulted anyone… more than once or twice."

"I suppose that's progress." Yoketron raised an optic ridge.

"I just don't have the right kind of patience to deal with mecha," Prowl said.

"Patience is a learned skill," Yoketron said. "Believe me, I've been trying to learn it for thousands of vorns. The trick seems to be in the trying—it may not get easier, but your efforts will make a difference."

Prowl nodded.

"Is there anything else troubling you?"

"Nothing beyond the normal logistics of running an army," Prowl said.

"Perhaps you should find some mecha to help you with that."

Prowl shook his helm. "Not yet. I'm not ready for that yet."

"You'll need mecha in your department eventually," Yoketron said. "What if Megatron attacks another city?"

"I have a battle computer upgrade," Prowl said. "If it comes down to it, I can run an entire army by myself."

Yoketron seemed to consider it. Then he nodded. "That doesn't surprise me, but I still think you'll need help eventually. Shall we meditate for a few breems before I instruct you?"

Prowl nodded, and turned off his optics and audios. He tried to let go of all the thoughts spinning around in his processor.

He hadn't thought meditating was a useful skill before he'd started training with Yoketron, but now he didn't know how he'd lived without it. It grounded him, kept him sane. He'd even started meditating on his own to help himself recharge every off-cycle.

But this orn, he couldn't quite focus. His processor kept wandering.

How could he avoid getting mecha offlined in the future? When would Megatron attack next? Would Prowl be ready? Would the Autobot soldiers be ready?

He wanted to observe them being trained—to see how that was coming along and gauge how much he could ask of them. He should ask Mainspring to send mecha to Slaughter City and Blaster City as well, to map out defensible positions. If he was going to defeat Megatron's superior numbers, he was going to need a better understanding of the terrain.

Prowl un-shuttered his optics and let his audios come back online. Yoketron sat across from him with a peaceful expression on his faceplate.

Somehow, Yoketron always seemed to know if Prowl wasn't really meditating, but the old mech hadn't called him out on it yet this orn.

Maybe he was giving Prowl a little extra time to try before he stepped in.

Prowl refocused. He shuttered his optics and turned off his audios again. His doorwings still picked up some readings—light, shadow, motion, sound. He could turn their sensitivity down but, like a pain grid, they could only be turned completely off by a medic.

It made meditating somewhat difficult, but then again, as soon as you were _really_ meditating, you could sense the mecha around you anyway.

Prowl focused on his spark beating—the way it felt, the rhythm of his energon flowing through him. He tried not to think about anything else.

Before long, he could sense Yoketron's spark as well, and then those in the surrounding apartments. He tried to ignore that, so he didn't lose concentration. The deeper you got, the more you felt, and the harder it was to keep meditating.

It got to be too much after half a breem, and Prowl sighed un-shuttering his optics again. He'd done some research on meditation, and most sources said it was best to meditate at the surface, where you could only feel your own spark or the sparks of those immediately around you, but Yoketron had never mentioned anything about that.

Prowl wondered how far he'd be able to feel if he tried. Could he sense mecha a block away? Two? Ten? Could you feel the whole city-state if you tried hard enough?

Prowl meditated again, attempting to reach out farther than before. It took a few tries but eventually he managed to reach out and feel several streets down. When he finally lost concentration he spent a few astroseconds with his optics shuttered, just thinking. He hadn't realized just how many mecha there were nearby. The walls of the garden blocked out most of the city sounds, but really they weren't alone at all.

He tried again, trying to sense even farther.

"What are you doing?" Yoketron said, breaking his concentration.

Prowl un-shuttered his optics. "Um… I apologize. I was distracted."

"By what?"

"I… well, by meditating. I was trying to see how far I could feel. I know that's not the point but…"

"Interesting," Yoketron said. "How far could you feel?"

"About three blocks in each direction."

Yoketron tilted his helm to the side looking slightly skeptical.

"Is that…"

"Do it again."

Prowl blinked, then nodded and tried to meditate again. It was a little difficult at first, especially because his doorwings told him Yoketron was watching him.

After a breem or so, he managed to reach out a few streets before losing concentration.

He looked at Yoketron. "I only got a few streets out this time. Why?"

Yoketron shook his helm. "Again. But this time, don't try to feel far, try to feel deep. Try to feel _here_. Does that make sense?"

"No," Prowl said. "It doesn't."

"Try it anyway."

Prowl shuttered his optics and meditated. This time, Yoketron did so as well, which made Prowl less self-conscious.

Instead of focusing on how far he could sense mecha, he tried to focus on the crystal garden.

As he sank farther into meditation, the feeling of his own spark got brighter, louder. Yoketron's did too.

And then he started to feel the outlines of the crystals in the gardens.

He could feel the walls, the tiles in the floor, and someone standing off to the side, watching…

Prowl gasped, un-shuttering his optics and letting all of his systems come back on.

There was no one there.

Yoketron frowned at him. "What happened?"

"Um…" It seemed silly now. "I… felt the crystal garden. But… it doesn't have a spark, so I don't know how..."

"Prowl, this whole planet has a spark," Yoketron said. "I've said before that we are part of Cybertron. We are all part of Primus."

Prowl looked down.

"I'm confused as to why you seem so troubled."

"I… thought I felt someone else here."

Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "Ah… well, the end of mortality isn't the end of the road, and the Well of Allsparks isn't a prison. I wouldn't be surprised if there were multiple mecha watching us."

"No," Prowl said. "That... can't..."

"Ah, I see," Yoketron said. "You told me you don't believe in Primus. Does that mean you don't believe in an afterlife either?"

Prowl wasn't sure what to say.

He had….

He had _felt_ someone there.

He shuddered.

"You'll very rarely feel other presences," Yoketron said. "Even when you're attuning yourself to Primus like you were. But if you _do_ feel anyone, you should know they can't harm you in any way."

"What was that, though?" Prowl asked. "That… didn't feel quite the same as meditating."

"When I was young," Yoketron said. "They taught meditation differently. Those who studied Circuit-Su attempted to find the balance between the corporeal and incorporeal realms. If you could sense the sparks of those around you, it was no longer considered meditation. However, in a time of great need, Primus showed us that by delving deeper into the incorporeal realm and tapping into his spark, we could utilize his power over the corporeal."

Prowl's optics widened. "Processor over matter?"

"Exactly,"

"You said it can take a hundred vorns to learn."

"Well, you didn't _perform_ processor over matter," Yoketron said. "You've got a long way to go before that. But… you do show promise. Even more than I initially expected. Perhaps I _will_ teach you. For now, though, I think we've spent enough time on meditation. Let's see if we can get through the rest of this orn's training before Orion shows up."


	16. Deception

Kup flipped the empty data chip through his fingers and deftly tucked it into subspace before closing his fist.

"Did you see where that went?" he asked.

The sparkling pointed to Kup's hand, looking somewhat unimpressed. Kup couldn't blame him. After all, the young mech had just woken up from a nap. In Kup's extensive experience with naps, they tended to make one a little surly.

"Sure about that?" Kup opened his empty fist, and the sparkling's optics widened.

He stared at Kup. "But… where did it go?"

"I don't know," Kup looked at his hand, pretending to be perplexed. "That's funny. It should be…" he looked around the room. "Ah, there it is, on top of your helm."

The mechling reached up to check, then shook his helm.

"Right here," Kup pulled the chip out of subspace and pretended to lift it off of the mechling's helm. "See?"

The sparkling took it from him, studied it for a moment, then narrowed his optics. "Who _are_ you anyway?"

Kup snorted, but Petra didn't seem quite so amused.

"My goodness, Atlas. Let's be polite to our guest. Why don't you ask him nicely what his designation is?"

The sparkling backed away, looking suddenly shy. It was pretty funny, considering that the mechling was nearly as tall as Kup, and probably weighed more.

"He's all right," Kup said. "I'm Kup. And you're Atlas, huh?"

The sparkling nodded, still looking unsure of himself.

Kup shook his helm, looking at Petra. "You said he was big, but I didn't think… how do you even take care of him?"

"Well, he's very well behaved," Petra went over to put an arm around her sparkling's shoulder. He ducked out of the embrace and moved to stand behind her—not that she hid him from view very well—peering shyly around her at Kup.

"Can't pick him up, though, can you?"

"Oh, definitely not," Petra said. "But that's almost a good thing. Even if he was a normal-sized sparkling, I shouldn't be trying to lift him, or anything heavy. I have permanent spark damage from an illness when I was younger."

"Really?" Kup said.

Petra nodded. "Atlas knows he's got to be careful around me, right?" she shot a fond glance over her shoulder.

"Mhm," the sparkling said. "I can't be mean to you. And I can _only_ climb on Landquake."

"That's right," Petra smiled, sounding as if she were trying not to laugh.

Kup heard the door open and turned to see the big transport enter with two other mechs.

"Landquake!" The sparkling rushed over, and Landquake picked him up and spun him around. Kup figured you could probably use that sparkling as a wrecking ball.

He approached the two mechs who'd accompanied the transport, trying to guess which one was the Prime.

It wasn't that difficult. The completely red mech stood tall like a guard, and had a warrior's wariness in his optics. The one with more blue on him gave off an air of studious naivete.

"Optimus Prime," Kup addressed the former librarian. "It's good to meet you,"

"Likewise," the mech said. "You are?"

Petra, who'd left the room as soon as her bonded had returned, came back with Yoketron and Prowl.

"Ah, good," Yoketron said. "You're here. Orion, this is Kup, a good friend of mine."

Kup nodded and stepped back.

"He…well, I suppose he can speak for himself."

"Yeah," Kup said. "I'd like to join your army. I've been in a few before, so I know a bit about how they work. That doesn't mean you should put me in charge of anything, though I can advise if you need it. And I've had lots of experience training new recruits in the past, so if that's something you need..."

Optimus nodded. "All of our soldiers are new recruits. We'd be very grateful if you'd help train them."

"Thought so," Kup said.

Another war. Training new recruits, sending them off to die, watching their frames pile up in the scrapyards.

But someone had to do it. He'd seen firsthand that Megatron was bad news and needed to be stopped.

"I can talk to him about signing up," the other mech—the guard—said.

"Thank you, Ironhide," Optimus said, and crossed the room to join Yoketron and Prowl. The three of them left the room.

"So," Kup crossed his arms. "I hear you got a lot of mecha from factories?"

"Yeah. A bunch of the refugees from Tarn are joining up too," Ironhide said. "We're in a little over our helms, if you must know. We don't have nearly enough experienced mecha. A bunch of the Elite Guard are volunteering part time, but we only have a few full-time trainers."

"Huh," Kup said. "Well, the sooner I'm signed up, the sooner I can get to work."

Ironhide hesitated.

"I think the Prime will be fine," Landquake said. "I've said it before…"

"I know, I know," Ironhide said. "Yoketron won't let anything happen to him. It's the principle, though… all right, Kup was it? I'll take you to the barracks, and show you what we're working with."

Kup nodded, and followed him out of the apartment.

* * *

It had been a long orn, in part because the orn had started long before the sun dome had even turned on. Elita thought if mecha really understood how exhausted she was, they'd stop comming her and messaging her.

She'd spent all orn dealing with mecha complaining. Complaining about the Autobot commandeering of the groundbridge stations, complaining about all the refugees. They didn't seem to understand that there had been no other viable options. They had _tried_ to negotiate with the stations.

She pushed her datapad away and put her helm down on the desk. She wanted Orion to come back from training already—he'd been gone for joors now, and she was almost worried. He was gone longer and longer every orn, it seemed. She didn't know what he was training _for_ exactly, but she knew it was frustrating and that he wasn't making as much progress as he wanted to.

She wished she could help him somehow—especially because that might mean she could spend more time with him.

She tried not to dwell on it, but she couldn't help missing the bond. Even though they'd been busy before, she'd always been able to feel him there. Even when they were apart, they'd been together.

She pushed herself up from the desk. She had to get through the rest of the orn. She had to get through a few hundred more messages and comm. calls. Then she could rest—maybe even take part of the next orn off.

Chromia commed her, and she answered quickly. _"Hey Chromia, do you need something? I'm really busy."_

" _I know,"_ Chromia said. _"But I need your diplomacy skills. There's this_ really _annoying trine of seekers who flew up here and they're demanding to talk to Optimus. Can you come get rid of them? Red Alert's throwing a fit, but I don't think it's helping."_

Elita sighed. _"I can try."_

It would be nice to get up from her desk for a few breems anyway. She scooted her chair back and stood, stretching. Primus, she was exhausted. Maybe after she dealt with the seekers, she could let Moonracer talk her into taking a break.

* * *

Orion un-shuttered his optics to sunlight. Frustration welled up inside him and he gritted his denta and clenched his fists. He wanted to throw something.

"Orion?" Yoketron asked.

"I'm never going to get this," he said. "I got so far! I got so far and then something offlined me and I had to start over. I didn't even see what it was this time."

Yoketron didn't say anything.

"And then I had to go all the way back to the beginning." He buried his faceplate in his hands. "I'm not moving fast enough. The war is starting already and I should be on the second, maybe the third trial by now…"

"Orion."

"Just let me try again."

"You've tried twice already. I can't keep you longer."

"Let me try again."

"And you are too frustrated right now to think clearly."

Orion shuttered his optics.

"Vent deeply. Focus on your spark," Yoketron said. "You may try again if you would like. But your friends will wonder what's taking you so long."

Orion tried to vent deeply. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to that horrible dark maze. Especially with some of the things that threatened him later on in it. The things trying to offline him were more and more familiar the farther he went. Sometimes it was even his friends waiting around the corners to jump out and kill him. Anything and everything he'd ever been afraid of.

"All right," Orion said. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Yoketron asked.

Orion nodded, then shuttered his optics.

When he opened them, the world was gray and dull and colorless. He stood up, braced himself, and walked into the maze.

The scraplets swarmed up ahead, filling the hallway. Orion sprinted toward them, pretending the hallway was empty until he almost believed it was.

The scraplets disappeared. He kept jogging. A faceless swordsmech jumped out at him, but he had been ready and wasn't startled. He kept going, walking through the mech, who disappeared.

Orion kept going. Things jumped out at him or loomed up ahead. Glaring red optics around every corner. All of it fake. All of it was fake. The only real thing was the maze itself.

It was harder sometimes, to tell himself his friends weren't real, as they attacked him. But he reminded himself that this wasn't really them. When he'd gotten through it he could go back to the sunlit crystal garden.

Something hit the side of his helm and he fell to his knees.

"You're such a failure," Master Yoketron's voice said. "You're still on this trial. You should have passed it by now."

Not real. Not real. Orion got to his pedes and walked toward his circuit-su teacher.

"Alpha Trion is _not_ pleased with your progress."

He wasn't real.

"You'll never receive the Matrix at this rate."

Orion shuttered his optics and sprinted forward, directly through the other mech. Yoketron disappeared. But the pounding in his helm didn't. And he could feel energon dripping down his neck

No matter. He could keep going. He had to get through. He kept jogging—past obstacles, around corners, through more swarms of scraplets and various other things. He hit dead ends too. Those had started to be more frustrating than the things trying to offline him. He started to get desperate. He was going to make it, but only if he found the way _out_ of the maze.

And then the maze disappeared and Orion un-shuttered his optics.

He stared at the garden wall, numb.

"Orion?" Yoketron asked.

"Nothing offlined me… I just…" A wave of disappointment hit him and he shuttered his optics again. Frustration and defeat coursed through him, dampening his spark.

He had wandered the maze for an entire joor without finding the exit.

"What?"

"I couldn't find a way out," Orin said. "I didn't even get offlined a single time and I still couldn't get through the maze."

Yoketron seemed troubled but didn't say anything.

"Again," Orion said.

"No. They'll be very worried about you by now."

"I just need to go faster."

"Don't push yourself too hard. You can come back and try again next orn."

Orion got to his pedes, feeling dejected.

"You'll get there," Yoketron said.

Orion nodded, trying to believe it.

Ironhide and Landquake were waiting for him out in the front room.

"Ready?" the transport asked.

Orion nodded, and followed them out of the building.

They sat in the transport in silence for almost half of the drive back to the tower.

"Sorry I took so long," Orion said.

"Eh," Ironhide said. "I didn't even stay there the whole time."

"I'm certain it's safe for me to go to training on my own," Orion said. "You don't need to waste time while I'm working with Master Yoketron."

Ironhide frowned. "I guess…" he said. "I mean, now that I'm pretty sure that we can trust Landquake."

"Pretty sure?" Landquake said. "Ouch."

"You know what I mean," Ironhide said. "But I… I'll think about it. Oh, Chromia commed me and said there's some mecha who want to talk to you."

"About the groundbridge stations? I'm certain there are a lot of mecha who still want to talk to me about that."

Had it really only been half an orn since the attack on Tarn?

He'd been so certain in the moment that rejecting the Council's offer had been the right thing to do. But now he felt like he'd just made an enormous mess.

At least they'd gotten the refugees out of Tarn.

"I don't think it's that," Ironhide said. "Chromia said something about seekers. Apparently Red Alert's having a fit because they came in through that balcony, and someone had left the door open, and they say they won't go away until they talk to you."

Seekers? Orion hadn't made much of an effort to start up communications with Vos, knowing the seekers were more aloof, and not likely to want to take a side or even interact with either side. "Do we have seekers in our army?"

"A handful," Ironhide said. "I think. It could be some of them. Or it could be representatives from Vos. I don't know."

Well, Orion would have to talk to them when he got back to base. He sighed.

"You all right?"

"Yes," Orion looked at him. He felt physically and emotionally drained. He needed recharge and some way to get past the trial. Next time he should run the whole way and try to remember where all the dead ends were.

"It's been a long orn," Ironhide said.

Orion nodded. "Can you believe…"

"That you stood up to the Council, used our army to attack a couple of private businesses, and saved about fifteen thousand refugees all since coming out of recharge?" Ironhide finished for him.

Orion shuttered his optics. He'd also been stabbed, paralyzed, decapitated, and eaten by scraplets a few times. But that was a normal. every-orn part of training.

"Hey," Ironhide said. "You know, you're doing great, mech. I was worried after Megatron took our following and they made you a Prime… I'll admit I wasn't so sure you could handle it. But you proved me wrong, and I want you to know that from now on I'll back you all the way."

"Thank you."

They got back to Mirage's tower and went up in the elevator.

As usual, as soon as the elevator doors opened, mecha crowded around him to welcome him back, ask questions, and give him reports. He tried to acknowledge everyone without getting drawn into any conversations.

At the door of his office, Prowl was waiting for him.

"I have a list."

"Of course you do," Orion said, feeling resigned. "Weren't there some seekers that wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "I don't think that's very high on the priorities, but…"

"Are they members of our army?"

"Yes,"

"Can you send them to my office?"

Prowl nodded and held out a datapad. Orion took it and went to his desk to sit down and read through the list of things Prowl wanted him to do.

He had barely made it to the end of the list when his office door opened, and three seekers came in—one purple, one blue, and one gray and red.

"Good orn," Orion said. "Uh…" there were only two chairs besides his own in the room. He got up. "Would you like to sit down… or, you're seekers. Would you be more comfortable on the balcony?"

They looked at each other.

"Well, _he's_ a lot more considerate," the purple one said.

"We could go out on the balcony," the gray and red mech added. "But only if it's a secure location. We wouldn't want anyone to…" he paused dramatically. "…hear our conversation."

Orion blinked. "Well, it ought to be fine," he said. "Come on."

Red Alert commed him as he exited his office, and he answered but didn't say anything.

" _Optimus, don't go outside with them,"_ Red Alert said. _"We can't trust them! They could be assassins."_

Orion looked at the seekers. If they'd wanted to hurt him, they could have attacked him in his office. Besides, they were members of the army. Orion still wanted to get to know more of his soldiers.

Ironhide followed them down the hall, all the way to the balcony door.

"I'm going to talk to them outside," Orion said. "Stay here, all right?"

Ironhide looked like he wanted to protest, but then just crossed his arms. "Fine."

Orion led the way out onto the balcony, with the seekers following.

The sky was its usual dusk color, but from the high towers, you could actually see part of the sun as it skimmed around the horizon.

"It is good to meet you," Orion said. "What are your designations?"

"I am Starscream," the gray seeker said. "And this is my trine. We've been looking forward to meeting with you."

"You said you have something to tell me."

"I have a few suggestions," Starscream said. "And I'm willing to help you. I have a lot of weight to throw around in Vos, as I was a member of their elite armada before I joined your army."

The dark blue seeker standing just to the left of Starscream raised an optic ridge.

That didn't seem like a good sign. "All right…"

"And therefore…" Starscream said. "I might be able to pull some strings and get the seekers on your side." He grinned. "And I might even be able to help you recruit elsewhere. It's all about what other mecha think of you. For example, the whole groundbridge station thing earlier this orn is a PR disaster. But with my help you can avoid that sort of thing in the future."

Orion frowned. "I'm not sure if I follow."

"Let me give you an example. Let's say, in a couple of orns, the world finds out Megatron has been in league with the Council all along. Under those circumstances, both sides of the equation will come flocking to your army."

What?

"I can make it happen," Starscream said. "I have quite a talent for spreading around the right kind of information."

Oh. Orion looked down. There was no question what his answer would be. He would not stoop so low as to spread false rumors about Megatron.

"Of course," Starscream said. "My help isn't entirely free. I would expect, at the very least, to be appointed to some position of power in your army. I hear your second in command spot happens to be vacant at the moment."

Orion stared at him. Was this mech serious? He looked at the other two. The blue one wouldn't look at him. The purple one was making faces at the door where Ironhide and several other mecha were watching.

"Well…?"

"I apologize," Orion said. "That is not the way we do things. Megatron's actions will speak for themselves. There is no need to spread lies about him."

"They wouldn't be _lies,_ exactly—"

"No," Orion said firmly. "I'm sorry, but it is not negotiable."

Starscream scowled. "Fine," he said. "But you'll regret not accepting my help. In fact… you'll make a fine present for Megatron. Grab him and let's go!"

The purple mech darted toward Orion and so did Starscream. Orion ducked instinctively out of the way, backing toward the building.

The balcony door slammed open and Ironhide rushed out. "Get off!" The guard powered up his cannons, and the seekers transformed and flew away.

Orion shuttered his optics, venting a sigh of relief.

Ironhide grabbed him and dragged him back inside. "What was _that_?

"I don't know," Orion said. "They wanted…"

"I thought you had some reason for wanting to talk to them alone!" Ironhide growled.

Orion looked out the window, spark pulsing irregularly. That had all happened very quickly. He was surprised he'd been able to dodge out of the way. Then again, he'd had a lot of dodging practice recently.

"If they'd thrown you off the balcony, you could be _offline._ Or they could have carried you halfway out of the city by now! Orion! Are you listening?"

Orion shook his helm. "Yes." He looked at Ironhide. "You don't have to yell at me." He pushed past his bodyguard and headed to his office.

Red Alert met him on the way. "What were you thinking?" he demanded. "I told you not to do that! No one _ever_ listens to me! Are you really so stupid?"

"I apologize," Orion said through gritted denta. "I won't do it again. I just didn't think…"

"Of course you didn't!" Red Alert said.

Orion's processor buzzed with overwhelming frustration. "Well, I'm all right. I'm fine."

"We almost lost you!" Ironhide said. "That doesn't sound fine to me."

"I don't have time for this argument right now!" Orion said. "I have things to do." He turned and walked down the hall. Ironhide followed him, but didn't say anything as Orion got to his office and went in. He shut the door behind himself and was finally alone.

He sat down behind his desk and put his helm down on it. If he'd had an orn like this before, when he'd been a librarian, he might have just found a good datapad to read and gone home.

But now he couldn't. There was just too much to do and not nearly enough time to get it all done.

He still shouldn't have lost his temper. He'd never had a problem with that before he'd started running an army, but that was no excuse. He shuttered his optics, took in a deep vent, and got out the datapad Prowl had given him with the list of things to do. At least he hadn't been tempted to make an agreement with that seeker. That would be crossing a line.

Part of him worried that the mech would go and try the same thing with Megatron, but he doubted Megatron would take him up on something like that. If nothing else, the former gladiator was generally honest.

* * *

The door slid open.

I looked up from my computer console and stretched out my range as soon as I saw who it was.

Megatron narrowed his optics and glared at the mech who'd just walked in.

"Hey," Jazz said. "I'm back. How'd the whole Tarn thing go last orn?" _I wonder if he's upset about the evacuation…_

"Not as well as it could have gone," Megatron growled. "The Autobots knew about the attack and they were evacuating mecha for a whole decaorn beforehand."

Jazz blinked. "What? I mean, I heard they got a couple thousand out while you were attacking, but…" _How could the Autobots have known?_ He looked at me.

He was honestly confused.

Talking about the leaked information should have exposed him for sure.

 _Well?_ Megatron wondered.

" _It might not be him,"_ I said over an internal comm. _"He seems surprised."_

"That probably merits some looking into." Jazz frowned. _Or not. It's not like Megatron's living up to his promises. Kaon is a chaotic mess, and Tarn is probably almost as bad now. I wonder if Soundwave's working against Megatron…_ "In any case, I came ta report. I did manage ta find Wheeljack, but he wasn't interested in joining us, not unless I could tell him right then where the Institute is." _Which I can't unless Soundwave's found it already._

"Hmm…" Megatron said. "We're still looking for that. Any other ideas?" _You have to be picking up something from him. If he's not the traitor, then who is?_

Jazz shrugged. _I don't know who else might be helpful. No good mech's gonna join with Megatron… Then why am I… no…_ and then there was a moment of hesitation before he changed his thought process. "I do know some pretty skilled mecha in Polyhex, but I doubt ya want their help. They'd stab ya in the back soon as they could."

"Hmm…" Megatron said. "Get in contact with them for me."

"I don't know if I can contact them remotely. And they'll probably offline me if I show up." _Maybe I should say more. I don't think bringing Quantum into this is a good idea at all. Why did I suggest it, frag it?_

"Then give us their designations and Soundwave will contact them. Why are you making so many excuses?" _He's not acting entirely innocent… and yet you say he's not the traitor, Soundwave?_

I wasn't sure. _Something_ wasn't quite right about his thoughts.

"Just stating the facts," Jazz shrugged.

"Maybe you don't want my army to have a strong leadership."

"They just might not be that much help," Jazz said. "They've got this organized crime thing going, and even if they team up with ya they'll be doing it for their own benefit, not because they believe in your cause."

"That's fine." Megatron said. "I'll be prepared if and when they try to betray me."

 _Why is he looking at me like that? He doesn't trust me, does he? But Soundwave, ya know I'm loyal, right?_ Jazz looked down. "I'll… give Soundwave their designations and let him track them down then."

"Good," Megatron said. "In the meantime, I'd like you to figure out who leaked the information about the attack."

Jazz looked at me again.

"I believe that's your area of expertise," Megatron continued. "Don't worry—If you can't figure it out, then we'll just assume it's Soundwave."

 _If it_ is _you, 'Wave,_ Jazz thought. _Come talk to me about it. I'm starting ta have second thoughts… then again, there's that… no, think about something else._

"Jazz?"

"Sure," Jazz said. "I'll look inta it… I got a question, by the way."

He was trying to hide _something_ from me.

"What?" Megatron demanded.

"Ya probably won't like it, but I have ta ask it."

"Go on."

"Ya did all of this ta free the slaves in the mines, right? That was the point, or at least the starting point."

"Yes," Megatron said.

"Okay. On my way through base, I ran into Demolishor and he says we've got more mecha in the mines now. Are they getting paid?"

"Some of them are," Megatron said.

 _Yeah,_ Jazz thought, _Just not the prisoners they took from Tarn._ "Doesn't that kinda defeat the purpose?"

"There's a difference," Megatron said, settling back into his seat. "You see, when I was in the mines, I had no freedom whatsoever, but those there now had a choice. Freedom or slavery. They _chose_ slavery. I'm not going to take the right to _choose_ away from them. They can still change their minds if they want to be soldiers instead."

Jazz looked at Megatron, feeling a mixture of regret, disappointment, and anger. _That's what I thought. Primus, what am I doing here?_ "Okay," he said.

"Anything else?" Megatron asked.

Jazz shook his helm.

"Then get out."

The short, black and white mech left Megatron's throne room. I extended my range to follow him out into the hallway.

 _I think I'd better read that file. This ain't right. I have to know why I'm here._

What file?

 _So,_ Megatron thought. _Is it him or isn't it?_

"Uncertain," I said, losing focus slightly as I had to stretch farther and farther to hear him.

 _What do you_ mean _uncertain?_ He glared at me.

"He's hiding something," I explained, and got up from my console. "Give me more time."

Megatron sighed. _Very well. One more orn._

I left the throne room. Jazz would be careful, always watching. I knew he was hacked into my security system, but if I pretended to go to my office, which was far enough away from his for him to feel safe, he might give me some more hints. He didn't really know how far I could stretch my range or for how long. I could push myself further now that I could pull my range back and recover afterward.

I kept listening to him as I walked the rest of the way to my office.

"Soundwave!" Frenzy said and jumped off the desk to come hug my leg. "Soundwave, Rumble called me stupid."

I looked at Rumble, who was sitting on the desk with his arms crossed, pouting. Ravage hopped down off of my shoulder and went to curl up on my berth.

"Frenzy poked me in the optic." Rumble said. "Clumsy idiot."

"What were you doing?" I asked, as the beginning of a processor ache started in my helm.

"Practicing fighting!" Frenzy said. "In case we have to fight Autobots."

That was troubling for multiple reasons. "Well, do-on't offline each other. And be quiet for a few breems. I have to concentrate." I sat at my desk and focused on Jazz's thoughts. Sure enough, he was looking for me on the cameras. He saw me sitting in my office. I unsubspaced a datapad and started pretending to read a report. Relieved, he watched me on the screen of his computer console for a moment. I was grateful that he couldn't tell from my expression that I wasn't paying attention to what was on the datapad.

Jazz sighed and opened a drawer. He pulled a datapad out from the back of it and turned it on. A message popped up on it, telling him that if he questioned his loyalty, he should hack into the datapad to find out why he'd joined the Decepticons. I watched as he did so, helm pounding, wishing he'd hurry up. It was heavily encrypted and even listening to the process he used to break in, I wasn't sure I understood what he was doing.

A second message appeared on the screen.

[Congratulations!

You are the smartest mech in the whole fragging world. You've just won a ten billion credit prize for hacking this datapad, which can be collected the orn you finally decide to stop paying attention to random notes you leave yourself.]

What?

Jazz stared at the text, incredulous.

 _That can't be it. Why the frag would I prank myself like that? I thought there was a real reason…_

The text changed into a different, longer message.

It was a letter, written by Jazz to himself explaining why he was loyal to Megatron—or why he wasn't. I leaned back, a little shocked. He'd been deleting information from his own processor to keep himself from remembering that he was a double agent. The only thing he usually left was an idea that if he questioned his loyalty, there was a file he could read. He also left the sense that he should hide the existence of the file from me.

Extreme measures, and very unsafe. But it had gotten him this far, and he'd intended to go as far as he could, gathering and transmitting as much information as he could to Iacon, and Orion.

I was almost shaking with the pain of extending my range so far, and for so long, but I held out in fascination as Jazz finished reading the document. When he was done, he reset the datapad and shoved it into the back of the drawer.

He thought for a breem, and sent a quick note to Iacon with some information, bypassing all my communications blocks, and then marked a few files in his processor and deleted them.

It left him feeling shaky and a little disoriented, but determined to keep going and not let me find out… whatever it was that he knew he'd just permanently forgotten.

I pulled my range back in and looked at the screen of my datapad.

He _was_ the traitor. And if I got that datapad, I would have proof. Megatron would have Jazz offlined.

I didn't want to admit how much that troubled me.


	17. Denial

Prowl stood on the catwalk, looking down at the training soldiers beneath him. After a full off-cycle of recharge—or at least closer to a full off-cycle than he'd had in a while—he was anxious to leave the Tarn evacuation behind and move on to the next set of problems.

They probably had at least a decaorn or two before anything happened, but Megatron could attack any orn if he wanted to. His numbers had grown, and all the city-states near Kaon and Tarn were in danger.

Mecha from the Tarn evacuation were still enlisting in the Autobot army, which was good, especially since they were in better shape, on average, than the Iacon factory workers. They were largely from the middle class, and even some upper middle class—well-educated enough to recognize that Megatron wasn't going to save them from anything.

They were promising, but they weren't soldiers yet.

Prowl watched them anyway, looking for anyone who seemed to take to fighting more quickly, taking note of mecha who were good at following orders. Leadership qualities were harder to quantify, and so he wasn't sure how to identify those, but he'd figure it out.

He made notes on his datapad, jumping back and forth between watching the mecha below and working. He was sure he was missing things, though. He frowned down at the soldiers for a moment, trying to decide.

Then he activated his battle computer.

It was like his processor expanded to become a hundred, giving him much more space to think, plan, observe. He directed the majority of that processing power toward interpreting the data from his doorwings, and everything in the room came into crystal focus. He could pay attention to each individual soldier now, watch them learning all at once. Working and taking notes on his datapad seemed unbearably slow, so he created a file in his processor and stored all of the useful information in it.

He put his datapad in subspace and reached out slowly and deliberately to grip the railing of the catwalk, steadying himself. One downside to the battle computer was that it took a _lot_ of power, which he had to pull from other systems or risk overexerting his spark and engine. He couldn't move very well when the mod was online.

But he learned more about the group of soldiers below him in ten breems than he would have if he'd watched all orn without the battle computer on.

By the time he finished observing, he had mentally organized them all into units he thought they would work well in.

He carefully shut down his battle computer and made his way over to the ladder that led down to the main floor. He wasn't really sure how much his observations would help. He'd have to come back several times to see several different groups of soldiers.

Hopefully, if he prepared well enough, and if he knew the Autobot forces well enough, he would be able to win a battle, even against Megatron's much larger army.

Hopefully.

* * *

Jazz drummed his fingers on his desk, trying to decide what to do.

Something was wrong about this whole situation. The more time went on the more memories he seemed to lose. Under normal circumstances, he'd probably want to go see a medic about that, but the missing memories didn't seem random. They were too precise, too clean-cut. And he seemed to lose them as they happened, or only shortly thereafter.

It was like he kept discovering something he decided he didn't want to know and then wiped his memory of it.

Which led him to think that maybe dwelling on it wasn't a good idea.

Of course, the other option was wondering why the pit he'd sided with Megatron, and he didn't want to dwell on that either, because he knew he had to stay loyal in case Soundwave was listening. They were looking for a traitor. If he couldn't stay loyal right now, then the mech would certainly rat him out.

Unless Soundwave was the traitor. But Jazz figured if that was the case, the telepath would have come to him already and tried to convince him to switch sides.

It wouldn't be a very difficult case to make. Megatron was bad news, and Jazz wasn't happy with his decision to follow the gladiator anymore anyway.

Once again, he'd made the wrong choice and picked the wrong side.

Why?

He could hack into that datapad if he really wanted to know.

He got an internal comm. from Soundwave and answered it reluctantly.

" _Hey, mech, I'm deep in an existential crisis or something. Can ya comm. back later?"_

" _Megatron requires your presence immediately."_ Soundwave said. Even his simulated voice was inflectionless and monotone.

Jazz sighed. _"Fine. I'll be there in a breem."_

Soundwave cut the comm. and Jazz pushed away from his desk.

He got up and walked to the door, but then hesitated. The summons to come to a meeting with Soundwave and Megatron was nothing out of the ordinary. But something about the extra-lifeless quality of Soundwave's voice bothered him.

It could mean any number of things, though, so there was no reason to freak out. He'd stay alert and try to be ready for anything.

Jazz left his office and walked down the hall. He counted off the cameras as he went, glancing at each of them from behind his visor. This building had been a mansion before, kind of like Mirage's tower, but not quite as ridiculously tall. It was pretty defensible, but they were working on another base—rebuilding on top of what had once been a government building instead.

Jazz got to Megatron's 'throne room' and entered. Soundwave was by his computer console, and Megatron was sitting in the big chair in the center of the room, watching Jazz through glowing red optics. An immediate feeling of unease washed over him, but Jazz tried not to show that he was nervous.

"Sorry if I kept ya waiting," he said casually.

"No matter," Megatron said.

The doors slammed shut behind him and two gladiators stood just inside, weapons powered up.

"I'll give you a chance to come quietly," Megatron said, standing and powering his arm cannon. "There's nowhere for you to go."

What the frag?

He shouldn't have ignored that uneasy feeling.

"What do ya mean?" Jazz asked, looking for an escape route. Of course, it didn't matter if he found one because Soundwave was listening. He couldn't think of an escape plan while Soundwave was listening.

He had to get rid of Soundwave… but he couldn't come up with a plan to get rid of Soundwave without the telepath knowing that too.

Megatron stood and aimed his cannon at Jazz's helm, walking toward him. Not the greatest idea. If the other gladiators fired, then they were likely to hit their leader. This mech was used to fighting by himself. All of them were. Could Jazz use that somehow?

"I'll explain once you're in the dungeon," Megatron said, pulling a datapad out of subspace. "Or rather, I'll let you explain it to yourself."

Pit.

That was the datapad he was supposed to read to find out why he was loyal.

How had they taken it without him noticing?

Megatron put it back into subspace. "Turn around. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Jazz glanced at Soundwave. _You owe me one, 'Wave. I saved your life back in secondary school that one time._

Soundwave stared blankly at him.

Jazz had one chance.

He dove to the side, shifting his hand to a stun blaster, and shot directly at Soundwave's helm. Megatron fired and Jazz felt a sudden, crippling pain in his leg. He didn't have time to react, though. As Soundwave collapsed, Jazz changed the settings of his gun and fired up at the fancy light fixture that was the primary light source. It came down to crash on the ground in a spray of crystal shards and an explosion of energon smoke that filled the now-dark room

Someone else fired. The shot ricocheted off the wall and hit a computer console from the sound of it. Jazz curled his fingers around a floor panel and lifted it just enough to slide down into the crawl space between floors.

He let the panel fall back down above him and lay underneath, venting hard. He forced his pain grid down as far as he could as the excitement of the moment wore off and his leg—or what was left of it—started to really hurt.

He couldn't stay here, though. He had to move while everyone in the room above him was still shouting at each other, trying to get the lights back on, trying to figure out where he'd gone.

He rolled over and crawled, squeezing through ventilation shafts and navigating around pipes. He tried not to think about the painfully obvious energon trail he was leaving as his fuel levels dropped rapidly.

After a few breems that seemed like eternity, he came out into a space with a little more room. He sat against a wall and studied the damage to his leg.

Or… the part of it that was left. He'd lost almost everything beneath the knee. That cannon of Megatron's was pretty powerful.

With shaking fingers, Jazz reached into subspace for a knife, and pried aside a panel on the upper half of his leg. He cut the cable that was sending pain signals to his sensory grid, and then sat back against the wall for a moment, basking in the resultant numbness.

He was still losing energon, though. He reached down and did his best to tie off the energon lines. When he had stopped leaking so much he crawled away again, looking for an exit. He still wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but either way his orns in the Decepticon army were over. He doubted the Autobots would want him back, but he couldn't stay here any longer.

If he could get out of the building without getting caught, he'd probably make it, even without his leg. But he had lost a lot of energon. As he crawled through the walls of the base, he started to feel sluggish, and his processor kept trying to shut down. It was just a natural reaction to losing so much fluid. If he went into stasis, he'd stabilize, but he couldn't let himself do that until he was somewhere they wouldn't look for him. He stopped in a maintenance tunnel that led out onto the street. He couldn't walk, that was for sure. And he was too close to powering down. Maybe if he just rested for a breem…

He curled up in the tunnel and shuttered his optics.

* * *

Orion followed the wall, ignoring obstacles, walking through all the challenges in his path, focusing on mapping out the maze in his memory. He'd been offlined twice this time, so his chances of getting through were slim, but if he picked the right way…

Around a corner, he came to a dead end. With a huff of frustration, he turned and headed back the way he'd come. It was so easy to get turned around.

He dreamed about the maze almost every time he recharged now. It seemed embedded in the back of his optic shutters. The dull lighting, the gray walls, the monsters. It almost felt like he never left.

A shriek sounded from somewhere ahead and a creature with burning optics and too many legs rounded the corner. Orion's energon froze, but he shuttered his optics and kept going toward it. This one had gotten him before. He heard it shriek again and his spark pulsed irregularly, as if beating against his spark chamber, trying to flee.

Then the creature crashed into him, knocking him over. Orion screamed as it latched onto him and shoved its claws deep into him. He tried to struggle, but it didn't let go, reaching deeper inside of him, twisting, shredding systems and internals as its pointed helm burrowed deep into his chassis, toward his spark. Orion shuttered his optics

And then came to himself at the beginning of the maze.

Spark-eater.

Orion leaned against the wall, venting hard as frustration welled up inside of him.

At this point, there wasn't much hope of making it through the maze. But if he waited too long, the scraplets would come find him.

Orion walked out of the small waiting room-like entrance. At least the layout seemed to be the same each time. That should theoretically make it possible to get through.

Orion walked through the intangible cloud of scraplets and then kept walking. He hadn't gotten very far before the walls went blurry and he knew he was coming back to the crystal garden.

He un-shuttered his optics, but didn't say anything, just looked up at the distant Iacon sky. How many times had he attempted the trial? He'd lost count.

"Well?" Yoketron said at length.

"Again."

"That was already three times."

"Again," Orion repeated. He was so sick of that stupid maze—so sick of dying in horrible ways, over and over again. He had offlined hundreds of times in the past several decaorns. Maybe even thousands.

"No," Yoketron said.

"Yes," Orion insisted. "I am going to get through the maze."

Yoketron studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I'll let you try one more time. But you had better make it. Agreed?"

Orion nodded. "Agreed."

"All right," Yoketron came around behind him. Orion felt the data stick, and then the maze materialized around him.

Liege Maximo's voice spoke, seeming to come from every direction.

"You are the master of your own processor. You choose what is real and what is fake. Your objective is to reach the end of the maze."

Orion prepared himself. This time he was going to do it. He'd be faster. He wouldn't let anything distract him. He'd make it.

He set his hand against the wall of the maze, trying to map it out in his processor. Where hadn't he tried yet? What route had he missed? Which way did he need to go?

What if there wasn't a way out?

But it wasn't supposed to be impossible. There were some places he hadn't tried yet—some branching corridors he hadn't gone down.

He just had to decide which way to start. He was fairly certain he wouldn't have time to backtrack if he wanted to beat the trial this time.

He could hear the scraplets in the distance now. They were coming, but they weren't real. Nothing in this maze was real.

Orion looked up at the wall he was leaning on, optics widening.

Nothing in the maze was real. It was all in his helm anyway. The scraplets were getting closer, but he didn't care anymore. Orion took his hand away from the wall. He tried to imagine the space behind it, the hallway where the scraplets had surely reached by now. Then he touched the wall.

Still there.

Orion stepped back and shuttered his optics. There was no wall, just empty space. The wall was just his imagination. It wasn't real…

He took in a deep vent, un-shuttered his optics, and leaned forward. His palm went through the wall and it vanished.

The scraplets turned as one, apparently unfazed by the fact that the wall next to them had just disappeared. They swarmed Orion, buzzing hungrily… Pain overwhelmed him as they tore him to pieces, feasting on his mesh.

Orion was almost too excited to care. He shuttered his optics and let them kill him, waiting anxiously to start over.

Then the room was silent, and the maze was still and Orion was in one piece.

He fixed his new route in his processor. It was going to be a lot simpler than he had thought. This place wasn't a maze after all, just an empty field.

He walked forward and through the wall. It vanished as he did so. He crossed the hallway and walked through the next wall. And the next.

The scraplets chased him but it didn't matter. He didn't have to worry about them. They were no longer blocking his way.

Orion started running, passing through walls, gathering dangers behind him. Once, he lost his concentration, and smacked into a wall, but he got up and rushed through it before anything caught up to him. After several breems of running, leaving a clear path behind him, he started to wonder if the maze would ever end.

Maybe this wasn't the way out. Maybe the maze went on and on eternally.

And then he burst through a wall and into a dark, open plane. Orion blinked and turned to see a smooth wall behind him—the outer wall of the maze.

After an astrosecond, Liege Maximo's voice broke the silence.

"You have reached the end of the maze. You may proceed."

And then Orion un-shuttered his optics and he was sitting in the crystal garden. The sky was darker now, indicating that the sun dome had turned off for the off-cycle.

"Orion?" Yoketron sounded alarmed.

Orion stood. A wave of relief washed over him.

"Orion what happened? That was barely fifteen breems…"

"I made it," Orion said. "I got through."

Yoketron blinked. "How?"

"I went through the walls of the maze. They weren't real either. None of it was real."

Yoketron looked down, then back up. A small smile graced his lip plates. "That was very clever. Well done."

"Thank you, Master Yoketron," Orion bowed. Encouragement was common from the circuit-su master. Praise was not.

"I know Ironhide is probably worried about you," Yoketron said. "And you should go home and get some well-earned rest."

Orion stood. "I… I'm finished, aren't I? I never have to go into that maze again."

"Never," Yoketron promised, standing as well.

Orion vented a sigh of relief, but he was too on edge to really relax. "Of course… I'll have to start the second trial next orn… I'm still behind schedule."

"Don't dwell on it," Yoketron counselled. "We can talk about the second trial next orn."

Orion nodded.

"And don't worry," Yoketron said. "You'll catch up."

"Thank you," Orion bowed again, then walked toward Landquake's back door. No more maze. He was finished.

* * *

Jazz woke up fighting. He hit his helm on the ceiling and sank back to the ground, venting hard. Then his optics adjusted and the maintenance tunnel came into focus. He'd managed to bury an energon blade pretty deep in the wall. Sheepishly, he rubbed his aching helm, then reached to pry out the knife.

It was stuck deep in, and he was weak enough from energon loss that the exertion of trying to pull it out was making him dizzy. So he just left it. A shame, as it was a really good knife.

Jazz crawled through the tunnel on hands and knees, trying to keep the splintered shards at the end of his leg from scraping across the tunnel floor or catching on any wires. He couldn't really feel it, but if it started leaking again, he'd probably pass out—maybe even offline. He still felt weak. He wouldn't make it too far without some energon, but he could try to find some out in Kaon somehow.

He got to the door at the end of the tunnel and listened, straining his audios. Was anyone out there? He couldn't hear anything.

He knew exactly where he was in the building. From this door, Jazz would just have to cross a small courtyard. There was a drain there that he'd probably fit down, which would lead him away from the Decepticon base. There might be some acid rain residue at the bottom, but he'd just have to try to keep his injured leg from touching it. That drain was probably his safest way to avoid any guards.

Jazz took a deep vent and twisted the handle on the door. It swung open with a creak.

Soundwave was standing right there, with a gun pointed at Jazz's helm.

Pit.

Jazz froze, spark sinking. How had Soundwave found him? Could this mech hear his thoughts even when he was recharging?

Astroseconds passed by while Jazz waited for the telepath to shoot him, but Soundwave didn't move.

Jazz looked down. "Ya ever fired that thing before, mech?"

There was a clicking sound and Jazz flinched, but nothing happened. He looked up again, and Soundwave's hand was extended.

Jazz hesitated. But he was at the other mech's mercy so he might as well just go along with it. He accepted the proffered hand and let the other mech pull him out of the tunnel and to his one pede. "Thanks, mech."

"We're even," Soundwave said coldly.

Jazz vented a sigh. "I'm going back to Autobot," he said. "Wanna come with?"

Soundwave was silent.

"That mech ain't Searchlight anymore," Jazz said. "Come on, ya know that."

Silence.

"I know ya were friends and all, but... He's trying ta take over the world. Are ya really gonna help him do that?"

The other mech didn't move. It was like talking to a statue. But Jazz knew his words had to be making some sort of impact.

"Come on."

"No."

"Mech, ya can't save him. He's gone."

Soundwave's long fingers transformed back into a gun. "Go."

The unspoken 'before I change my mind' hung in the atmosphere. Very well then. Jazz hopped across the courtyard. He almost stumbled once, but made it to the tunnel. He bent down and opened the doors with Soundwave's silent gaze on him… still… then he let himself down as slowly as he could.

He was pretty confident he would get away now. Too bad he couldn't have brought Soundwave. It was pretty clear the Autobots were at a serious disadvantage without a telepath.

But they'd make do.

Of course, he was assuming they'd let him come back. They might just lock him up—maybe even decide to offline him. But he would deserve it, and at least he could give them some info about the 'Cons.

Jazz smiled bitterly to himself. He'd done this before.

And he'd keep doing it, every time he made a stupid mistake and joined the wrong side.

* * *

Alpha Trion knocked on the office door and waited, tapping his pede on the ground. He really didn't have time for this, but he felt _some_ obligation to explain himself. The Fallen was confirmed to be on Cybertron, and would be coming after them now. Alpha Trion was an obvious target, and continuing to sit on the Council would be risky. For safety, he'd have to drag one or more of his siblings with him to Council meetings.

He didn't really mind inconveniencing them, but he was embarrassed about how far he'd let the government fall.

He had tried to guide them with a light hand, because Primus had warned the Thirteen to stay out of government affairs. But he was afraid he had turned a blind optic too many times.

The door slid open after a few astroseconds, and he entered. Grand Councilmech Halogen was sitting behind his desk, looking at a datapad. He didn't glance up from it until Alpha Trion was seated across from him.

"Good orn, Alpha Trion. To what do I owe the honor?"

"I needed to talk to you."

"You've been absent from your seat very often of late."

"Yes," Alpha Trion said. "I have been dealing with other, more pressing matters. What have you been inflicting on the mecha of Cybertron in my absence? You might as well tell me and save both of us some trouble."

Halogen raised an optic ridge, meeting Alpha Trion's gaze evenly.

"I hear we have a new captain of the guard. What happened to Ultra Magnus?"

"The Autobots didn't want him anymore," Halogen said. "And neither do we. He is out of the picture for now."

Alpha Trion stared. "Did you _kill_ him?"

"No," Halogen said. "We are convinced he can still be useful."

Alpha Trion shook his helm. "I don't know why I'm even surprised. How did his _happen_ , Halogen?"

"How did what happen?" Halogen asked. "I'm not sure I understand your question."

"I know that power can corrupt," Alpha Trion said. "That's why I've never directly sat as head of the Council myself. But… I thought that surely you'd be strong enough to withstand it all a little longer. Were you always like this? Did I simply not see it?"

Halogen blinked. "I… am still not certain what you're babbling about."

"Where's that young idealist I voted into office two hundred vorns ago?"

"You're referring to me?"

"Yes."

"That sparkling is dead," Halogen said calmly, meeting Alpha Trion's gaze. "And I am glad to be out from beneath your shadow, old mech. You could say…" he trailed off for a moment, with an almost pained expression. "You could say… that I believe I am a better leader than I would be if I still followed your ridiculous ideals."

Alpha Trion shook his helm again. "You broke your promises to the mecha of Cyberton. And the result is this war. It's on your helm."

"The war was a mistake," Halogen growled. "It was never part of the plan."

"What plan?" Alpha Trion demanded.

There was a flicker—just a flicker of fear in Halogen's optics, but then it was gone.

"What plan are you talking about?" Alpha Trion said, suddenly concerned. "You already rule the world—or you _did_ until recently."

"Enough pleasantries," Halogen said. "Despite our differences, I'm glad you've come to speak with me—"

"Don't change the subject—"

"We must end the war as quickly as possible," Halogen said. "Surely we can agree on that much."

Alpha Trion shook his helm. "I'm not helping you end the war so you can tighten your grip on society again. In fact, I'm finished with your Council. You can expect a letter of resignation some time in the next few orns."

"You can't do that—"

"You can't stop me," Alpha Trion said. "I should think you'd be happy. You've been trying to get rid of me for quite some time. Well, now I'm going."

There it was again. That fear.

There was something wrong with the expression—something very unlike Halogen in it. But it was gone from the Grand Councilmech's faceplate before Alpha Trion could figure out what it reminded him of.

And he needed to get back to Maccadam's. He and his siblings had to prepare for a war of their own.

So he got up from the desk after a few more silent astroseconds, and left Halogen's office.


	18. Phase Two

Hound stepped out of the elevator and into a large room full of bustling, talking mecha. He thought back to the map in the message he'd received and crossed the room. Only a few mecha seemed to notice him, but he smiled and tried to look like he knew what he was doing.

He walked down a short hall to the office he'd been asked to come to and knocked on the door, which slid open almost immediately.

"Good orn," the mech behind the desk looked friendly at least. He beckoned Hound into the room. "Sit down. You're Hound, right?"

Hound nodded and sat. "It's good to meet you, sir."

"You too. And you can just call me Mainspring. Thank you for your help with the Tarn evacuation."

Hound looked down, trying to banish the stubborn replay in his processor of Megatron shooting Clampdown, then stabbing Deep Cover through the spark chamber. "I… tried, sir… um… Mainspring. I apologize that I didn't return to Iacon earlier, when I was supposed to. I know I wasn't technically supposed to stay behind, but…"

"You wanted to help," Mainspring smiled. "I'm glad you stayed behind. I hear your assistance was invaluable. In fact, I asked you to come to my office this orn to offer you a place in my department."

Hound's optics widened. "You… really?"

"Yes. Mirage recommended you. Apparently you have quite the talent for illusions."

Hound hesitated.

"What?"

"I… don't know if I'm cut out to be in an army in the first place," Hound said. "I don't think I could really be a soldier. I do still want to help, but… it's a lot harder than I thought."

He didn't want to have to watch anyone else die, and he was fairly certain he'd never be able to kill anyone.

"I see," Mainspring said. "Well, perhaps this will be a better option for you."

"Being a spy?"

"That doesn't necessarily involve the same things as being a soldier. In fact, at the moment, we're in great need of mecha who can go to the city-states near the south pole and survey them, looking for defensible positions, good places for ambushes, and the like."

Hound took in a deep vent and let it out slowly.

That didn't sound so bad.

"I'll understand, of course, if you turn this offer down," Mainspring said. "I'm sure your run-in with Megatron was traumatic."

Hound wasn't sure what to say.

Mainspring waited, watching him, until the silence was too much.

"I do enjoy traveling," he admitted. "And so long as…" he was being cowardly, he knew it. Other mecha were risking their lives. Other mecha were going to have to kill, to watch their friends die. "…never mind."

"Never mind?"

"I'm sorry for my reluctance," Hound said. "I'd be happy to accept any assignment you give me."

Mainspring met his optics. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's not fair for me to try and back out, when I know I can help."

Another brief silence fell, then Mainspring nodded. "Thank you. There are forms and other things to finalize. You'll need to move because we have a separate section of the barracks. I'll give you the paperwork and a few regulations to read, and then we can probably get you on an assignment within a couple of orns. You said you like traveling?"

Hound nodded.

"Well, expect to travel."

"Can I… have an orn to think about this?"

Mainspring nodded. "Of course, forgive me, I'm sure this is a lot to take in, especially after what happened in Tarn… Actually I have a few breems if you want to talk about the attack on your group of refugees."

"Oh, I'm fine," Hound said.

"You are going to be working under me, so it will benefit both of us if you're open and honest with me," Mainspring said. "Also, I was a psychological counselor for many vorns, and I may be able to help you work through what happened."

Hound looked down.

"Please," Mainspring said. "From what you've said, it seems like that's troubling you."

"All right," Hound said.

* * *

Starscream bowed elegantly before the big gladiator. With any luck, he wouldn't be as foolish as the Prime, and would accept Starscream's services.

"Who are you and what exactly do you want?" Megatron growled.

Well, he certainly wasn't as _polite_ as the Prime. "I am Starscream. This is my trine—Thundercracker and Skywarp. Until recently, I was the captain of an esteemed and highly elite seeker armada in Vos." He waited. No reaction from the gladiator, though Thundercracker shifted uncomfortably. That mech really needed to learn how to lie.

After a few moments, Megatron sighed impatiently. "Go on."

"We heard that you were looking for some talent to add to the leadership of your ranks."

The big gladiator still seemed unimpressed, but Starscream was sure it was just a front. His army was a mess compared to the organized—if untrained and untested—ranks of the Autobots.

"And what _talent_ do you presumably have?" Megatron said.

"Why, I'm glad you asked," Starscream said. "I have a multitude of wonderful talents which include brilliant intellect, charisma, and…"

"Demonstrate." Megatron cut him off.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't particularly appreciate rich idiots singing their own praises," Megatron said. "You have five breems to prove to me I shouldn't just shoot you for forcing your way in here." The gladiator's big arm cannon powered up.

Starscream backed away. "You wouldn't… I mean, you can't demonstrate… I mean…" He gathered his thoughts. "Your excellence, you wouldn't shoot me. I'm worth much more to you alive and on your side."

"Prove it."

Pushy, pushy. Starscream was starting to think he wouldn't get along with this mech. But he had to win Megatron over. He needed revenge on the mecha in Vos who'd rejected him, who'd tossed him aside after all of his hard work. His potential had been completely wasted on them, but they would regret it all some orn. And, in a sense, their dismissal had only lifted him to set his sights on loftier goals.

"Your army is… depressingly small," Starscream said.

Megatron glared at him. "Excuse me."

"It's larger than that of the Autobots, of course, but that won't last long. It's only been two orns since Tarn, and their ranks have _doubled_ in that time. At your current rate, you won't be able to keep up for long, especially as more mecha realize you're serious about conquering the world and decide they don't want you to. But I can solve that problem. I can make you popular. I can convince this whole planet, including all of the seekers, to side with you instead of that idiot Iaconian."

Megatron powered down his arm cannon. Good. He was listening now. Starscream laid out his initial plans in enough detail that Megatron would understand, but also leaving out enough so that the gladiator couldn't just steal his ideas and offline him.

And of course he couldn't share _all_ of his plans—not with Thundercracker listening.

After a few breems, Megatron leaned forward. "I've heard enough," he said.

Starscream flinched.

"But I need time to think about it. Stay nearby, and give Soundwave your comm. codes. I'll summon you some time in the next few orns to talk more. Until then, stay off of my base."

Summon him in a few orns? This was an outrage. This mech obviously didn't know who he was talking to.

"I warn you I'm…"

"Go!" Megatron said, powering up his cannon again.

Starscream didn't want to find out if that thing was as powerful as it looked. He turned and half-ran out the door. Thundercracker and Skywarp followed him.

"Well, that went _great_ ," Thundercracker said, arms crossed.

Starscream clenched his fists. "I don't need your commentary."

"He obviously doesn't like us," Skywarp said. "Why don't we just go back to Vos?"

"And abandon this opportunity?" Starscream glared at him. "How dare you question—"

"Look, Screamer." Thundercracker crossed his arms. "We're just giving our honest opinions. We're not going to play yes-mech for you. You're worth more than that."

Starscream huffed a sigh through his vents. "Well, we can't go back—there's nothing for us in Vos. We have to keep looking forward."

"What if Megatron doesn't want your help either?"

"He does," Starscream said. "I'm sure of it."

* * *

"So," Megatron said. "What was your impression? Can we trust him?"

"No."

"Could he be useful to us?"

Soundwave hesitated. "Yes."

Megatron nodded. That was what he had thought. "He'll probably try to stab me in the back as soon as he has a good opportunity. But some of his ideas aren't terrible. Do you think it would be possible to keep him under control?"

"Yes."

Megatron nodded. "What would I do without you, Soundwave?"

Soundwave was silent.

"We still haven't found Jazz?"

"No."

"Then he probably got away."

Soundwave nodded.

Megatron sighed. "How about the Institute? Have you found that?"

"No," Soundwave said.

"Any idea at all where it might be?"

Soundwave shrugged. "Ask the Council?"

Now there was an idea. The Iacon Council had made an attempt to contact him the orn before, but he had ignored them. He was determined that the next time he spoke with them would be right before he offlined them all. But maybe speaking with them could be informational. He might even be able to work out a deal with them, that he could go back on later. They had betrayed so many mecha. Revenge would only be sweeter if he had the opportunity to do it back to them.

Soundwave looked away. Something about his movement caught Megatron's notice. "What?"

Silence for a moment.

"Soundwave?"

"Do we _need_ to lie?"

"To lie?" Megatron asked. "Are you talking about Starscream's suggestions?"

Soundwave didn't answer, which Megatron took as a confirmation.

"I will do _anything_ to see this conflict through," Megatron said. "That is why I will win. You know that when it's over we'll put everything right. You have to trust me on that."

Still, Soundwave was silent.

"If you don't like it, you can leave," Megatron said. "I need your help, but I can't stop you if you decide to go. It's up to you."

Soundwave seemed to consider that for a few astroseconds, then Megatron saw him relax a little. He was staying then. Good.

"Thank you," Megatron said.

Soundwave nodded.

"Let the Council know I'm willing to talk to them." They must be desperate if they were trying to get in touch with him. Perhaps Orion had stopped cooperating with them. They should have foreseen that. If the librarian would turn his back on those he called friends, he'd use and betray anyone.

* * *

"Ready?"

Orion nodded. He shuttered his optics and braced himself for the familiar sensation of the data stick sliding into the port in the back of his helm.

He accessed the file on it, and un-shuttered his optics.

At first, all he could see was blackness in every direction. Then he noticed the faint outlines of what seemed to be a glass room, enclosing him. Of course, he couldn't really be floating in space, because there was some form of gravity keeping him anchored to the floor of the glass room.

He walked to the edge and rested a hand against the clear barrier between him and the distant pinpricks of light.

"Welcome, Prime," a voice said from behind him, and Orion spun to see that he wasn't alone anymore. There was a blue and silver mech in the room with him, standing by a simple, square table. Orion watched warily, still concerned that something would attack him. This trial was supposed to be more difficult than the first one.

"In order to pass this trial," the other mech said, reaching out to touch the top of the table. "You must win against me…"

Orion's spark pulsed irregularly. He barely knew how to fight…

"…at this board game."

What?

The tabletop lit up with hexagons and holographic pieces.

"A board game?"

"Yes," the other mech said very seriously. "Sit down."

Two chairs appeared out of nowhere, positioned on either side of the table.

Orion approached cautiously. "What happens if I lose?"

"Then you don't pass the trial," the other mech said. "Shall we begin?"

Orion wasn't quite sure what to think. He recognized the game, and knew the rules. It was a common strategy game—the same one, in fact, that Prowl had won against Soundwave back when they'd all been working together. Orion wasn't really that great at it. He wasn't terrible, but… well… "Who are you?"

"I am Logos Prime," the other mech said.

Of course.

Cybertron's first strategist.

Orion sat down across the table from him. He was still suspicious that somehow this would end with him dying horribly.

Logos sat as well. "You may make the first move, as is your right as my guest."

Orion took in a deep vent, then let it out. The other mech was silent, watching him carefully. He wished he could bring Prowl in to advise him. Prowl would be able to do this.

He moved a piece.

Logos moved a piece.

The game lasted a little longer than Orion had expected. But other than that, there were no surprises. He lost miserably.

After Logos made his final move, ending the game, Orion expected everything to start over, or maybe to dissolve, but nothing happened.

"How many times have you attempted this trial?"

"This is the first time," Orion said.

Logos nodded. "Ah. The first time. You did fairly well, I suppose, but you have failed to beat me at the game, and therefore have failed the trial. You may make another attempt at a later time."

And then everything disappeared, and Orion was hanging in empty space for an instant.

Then he un-shuttered his optics and he was in the crystal garden again.

"Welcome back," Master Yoketron said. "Did you enjoy the game?"

Orion blinked. "You knew what the trial would be?"

"The nature of the trials is a well-kept secret, but… well, I've been around for a long time, and you are not the first Prime I've seen go through them. I don't know how to beat the trials—well, most of them—but I have picked up a few things about them here and there."

Orion stood and stretched. "Did you train the other Primes as well?"

Yoketron smiled. "Only a handful of them, but I think I managed to make the acquaintance of every Prime since the last Quintesson war. In any case, how did the trial go?"

"Well," Orion said. "That was much better than being eaten alive… But how am I supposed to beat Logos Prime at a strategy game?"

"I'm not certain," Yoketron said. "All I know is that all the Primes before you did it somehow. I've heard this one is one of the more frustrating challenges. It takes more attempts, on average, than any of the others."

They didn't have that time.

"Would you like to go again?"

Orion nodded.

* * *

There was a cheer from the other side of the room. Elita leaned back in her chair and looked over, trying to see what was happening. That half of the big room was where the resource mecha worked.

Elita commed Chromia on an internal frequency, and waited a few astroseconds for her sister to answer.

" _Hey,"_ Chromia said. _"Guess what?"_

She didn't sound particularly excited. Elita frowned. _"What? Sounds like you're celebrating something over there."_

" _Whatever we've been telling everyone about the attack on Tarn, it's working. Recruitment's still going up."_

" _Really? How many mecha do we have now?"_

" _We just passed thirty thousand, but at this rate we'll have forty thousand by the end of the decaorn."_

Thirty thousand? That couldn't be right.

" _Really?_ _"_ Elita said. _"Primus, I knew you were busy, but I didn't think… didn't we have twenty three thousand at the meeting at the beginning of the orn? I knew we were going to need some more space, but… Primus, what happened? More factories closing?"_

" _No, actually. Mecha are signing up from all over the place,"_ Chromia said. _"Um… can I talk to you for a breem? Ugh, I wish we had real offices."_

" _We can borrow Orion's, since he's training,"_ Elita said, and pushed away from her desk. She waited for her sister, and Chromia joined her. Moonracer jogged over as they made their way toward the stairs.

"Can you keep things running for a few breems?" Elita asked.

Moonracer sighed. "Okay. If you promise to bring me back some energon, I haven't refueled, like, all orn."

Elita nodded, and she and Chromia left the room and headed up to the main floor.

"What do you think Orion _does_ for training?" Chromia asked. "I mean, he's gone for joors and joors every orn. Does he really spend that much time learning to fight? Ironhide only has us train for a joor or two every other orn, and I feel like we're making a lot of progress."

"I think he does other things too—something about becoming a Prime, but I don't know much about it."

Chromia frowned. "So he doesn't tell you—"

"Don't accuse him of keeping secrets from me, I don't know if he's _allowed_ to talk about it with anyone. Has he told Ironhide anything about it?"

Chromia shut her lip plates and shook her helm, then sighed.

"What?"

"I just think it's kind of sad that you're still convinced things will work out between the two of you. I mean…"

They stepped out into the main room and Chromia trailed off.

Elita wished she would drop it, but there wasn't much hope of that. She led the way to Orion's office and tried the door, but it was locked.

She commed Red Alert.

" _What are you doing?"_

"Borrowing Orion's office," Elita said. "Can you let me in?"

" _That's against protocol."_

"Please just let us in, Red Alert," Elita said. "We just need to talk privately somewhere secure,"

There was a moment of hesitation, and then the door opened.

"I would not have expected that to work," Chromia said.

"It's not our fault we don't have our own offices," Elita walked around the desk and sat down in Orion's chair. It was a bit too big for her, and her pedes barely touched the floor. She smiled slightly, happy and sad all at the same time to be sitting here where he spent so much time. She straightened a stack of datapads on the desk as Chromia sat across from her.

"Look, I know you've forgiven him and everything," Chromia said. "And—"

"Can't you just support me on this?" Elita said. "It's hard enough without mecha telling me to give up."

"I don't know, Ellie," Chromia said. "I kind of feel like he's moving on, just from the way he acts. And even if he isn't… without a bond…"

"Without a bond what?"

"How can you really understand one another? How can you really trust one another? I mean, I put off bonding with Ironhide for so long I'm sure he almost gave up on me. I was scared of the commitment, and worried because we didn't always get along, but I didn't understand… We still fight sometimes, but it's not as bad because we know when we're angry, and we know when we're sad. We know exactly how we feel about each other all the time. It's harder for me to stay mad at him when I can feel how sorry he is, or how it hurts his feelings. Same thing goes the other way. I don't know how we'd make it work without that."

Elita crossed her arms. "Is this what you wanted to talk about? I thought you had something to say about recruitment."

"I know I'm being kind of a glitch about this, Ellie, but what you're trying to do is crazy. It's going to be ridiculously hard, and I don't think you're going to get anything out of it. I don't want to see you hurt yourself."

"That's… thoughtful of you," Elita said. "But you're not going to change my mind. As long as Orion needs me, I'll be there for him, regardless of what I get or don't get out of it. Now, did you have something you wanted to talk about?"

Chromia frowned.

"Also," Elita said. "I'm really tired of having this conversation with you over and over again. Just let it go. I'm not a youngling and I'm not stupid and you don't need to make my decisions for me."

Chromia sighed. "Fine."

"Thank you," Elita said. "So…?"

"So, we're rapidly burning through Mirage's credit."

"How rapidly? How much time do we have left?"

"At our current rate, we've got maybe a vorn, but if our army and its expenses keep growing, I'd say we have less than a quarter of a vorn, especially if we have to keep finding more housing for our mecha."

Elita nodded. "I guess we'd better win this war fast then."

Chromia huffed. "Yeah."

"So, what do we do if we run out of credit?" Elita said. "We probably won't be able to beg the Council for anything without basically selling our sparks to them…"

"I don't know," Chromia said. "Hopefully we'll be influential enough by then that we can work out a deal that doesn't involve them taking ownership of the army. But in the meantime, we should try to be as frugal as possible. I mean, it might be more cost effective to buy warehouses and put up some extra walls in them to make apartments—that sort of thing. We got our first big apartment building for a good deal, but we can't buy more like that."

Elita sighed. "Well, see what you can find, and I'll run negotiations. Maybe we _should_ build our own base, though."

"Are you kidding, that would be _insanely_ expensive," Chromia said. "We'd have to hire architects and construction workers, and it would take a long time to build anyway. We couldn't—"

She cut off as the door opened, and Orion came in.

"Oh…" he said, looking momentarily confused.

"Sorry," Elita got up from Orion's chair and came around the front of the desk. "We didn't realize you'd be back so soon. We can—"

"It's all right," Orion said. "Let me get a few things, and you can carry on with whatever you were discussing."

He approached the desk, but Chromia got up. "Nah, we should get back to work."

Elita hesitated.

Chromia frowned at her, but didn't say anything, just walked out the door.

"Don't forget to get Moonracer some energon," Elita called after her. Chromia didn't respond, but hopefully she'd heard.

"So…" Orion said.

"Recruitment's gone up even more since you left," Elita said. "That's what we were talking about. We have more than thirty thousand soldiers now."

Orion stared at her.

"You know how you were saying that you were worried you'd made a mistake standing up to the Council and using the army to take the groundbridges? I worried about that at first too, but I'm glad we all trusted you. I think mecha realize that you really mean what you say—that you're really not willing to bend to the Council's will, and you really do just want to help everyone."

She'd hoped she could get him to smile, but he still looked solemn.

She watched him as he sat behind his desk. "That's good news," he said.

"Is it?" Elita sat across from him. "You don't seem excited about it."

He smiled then, but it was a small, tired smile. "Thirty thousand soldiers is a lot of responsibility."

That was fair. "It's not all on you," Elita said. "We'll all work together. How was training, by the way?"

"Good," Orion said. "I am somewhat stuck on something, but at least…" he trailed off.

It did bother her a little that he couldn't tell her about his training. She didn't understand why it had to be a secret.

But she told herself it didn't matter.

"Well, I'm glad you got to come back earlier," Elita said, smiling at him, and reaching out to put a hand on his. "Maybe you can get everything done early and get a decent amount of recharge for once."

He nodded, with a genuine smile this time. "That would be nice."

"I still have a lot to do this orn," Elita admitted. "But maybe if I get done early too, we can spend some time together?"

Orion looked away.

"It's all right if you can't," Elita said. "Or if you don't want to. You don't have to look so guilty about it. I know you need rest, more than any of us."

Orion pulled his hand away, but then took both of hers and met her optics. "I would love to spend some time with you later. Maybe next orn. I should get done with training early again next time."

"All right," Elita said, and got up. "I'll see you at the meeting next on-cycle."

She stopped in the doorway, on the way out and glanced back at him to see he was looking down at a datapad on the desk, but he hadn't turned it on yet.

It was sometimes easier to pretend that everything was going to work out between them when he _wasn't_ here. As much as she'd never admit it to her sister, Chromia made a lot of good points.

She could still read Orion well enough to know if he was upset, or happy, or tired. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something—that he was hiding something from her.

Maybe Chromia was right. Maybe he was moving on, and just too nice to say anything about it. Maybe he would be better off without her.

He looked up, and she saw a bit of well-hidden pain in his expression. He tilted his helm in a questioning sort of way, as if to ask why she was still standing there staring at him.

Elita didn't have a good answer. She shook her helm slightly and backed out of the room, letting the door close behind her.


	19. Resources

"Thank you all for being here," Orion said. "Can we get started now?"

Prowl tapped a finger on the desk, waiting impatiently for everyone to quiet down. He missed having Ultra Magnus here to call meetings to order—Orion wasn't nearly forceful enough about it.

"Everyone?" Orion said.

Chromia and Moonracer, who'd been chatting quietly, finally stopped.

"Welcome to our ornly meeting," Orion said. "I hear our numbers have risen drastically since last orn. Chromia, would you give your report?"

Chromia nodded. "We have almost thirty-four thousand mecha who have signed up to be in our army, and that number is still growing. This is great, but it also means we're going to be eating through Mirage's credit pretty quickly now that we need to house and feed a much larger force."

"That's a lot of mecha," Mainspring said.

"We might consider moving somewhere other than central Iacon," Chromia said. "Housing prices here are terrible. One of the outer sectors of Iacon would be better, or even one of the nearby city-states."

Orion nodded. "We will consider that for the future," he said.

"As it is, there's pretty much no way we can keep all of our soldiers together in one place. However, our groundbridge station is almost finished. It should be operational in less than a decaorn, so it'll be feasible—if costly—to keep groups of soldiers in different places and then bridge them wherever we need them to gather."

"Thank you," Orion said. "Elita, have we heard anything from the owner of the groundbridge station who's letting us use his license?"

"I haven't heard anything from him," she said. "But he hasn't rescinded his permission, so we're fine to use the bridges as soon as they're operational."

"Ironhide," Orion said. "How is training going for our soldiers?"

"It's going well," Ironhide said. "Turns out that mech, Kup, had some connections, and he was able to find us more mecha to help train full time."

Prowl nodded, anxious for his turn to speak. Everything was falling perfectly into place. They only had one reasonable course of action at this point. He was surprised no one had brought it up already.

"Also," Ratchet said. "I hired two more medics last orn, so we have ten now, working full time for us. And in the case of a crisis, I have a friend at a nearby hospital who can get us more short-term help if we need."

Orion nodded. "This is all good news. I'm grateful to all of you for keeping everything running so smoothly, even though I can't always be here."

Prowl ran out of patience. "Prime, sir?"

Orion looked at him, then nodded for him to speak.

"If I may… considering that our resources are drastically increasing, I believe it's time to think about taking a more active role in the conflict."

Silence fell.

"Our army may never be as large as Megatron's, but we're going to be close soon, and I'm almost certain we have better organization and an advantage in strategy. As Chromia has said, our monetary resources won't last forever, but if we act quickly, we may be able to end the conflict before that point."

Orion frowned. "Are you suggesting we attack Megatron?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "As soon as our groundbridges are operational."

Silence fell, and Prowl looked around the room. They seemed to be considering it, except for Orion, who shook his helm. "We will not go on the offensive."

"I don't know that we can," Ironhide said. "Haven't you been watching our soldiers train? They're not ready for battle."

"Megatron's soldiers aren't any more experienced," Prowl said. "And his forces are split between Tarn and Kaon. Now would be the best time to move against him, before he consolidates his army to attack another city-state."

"No," Orion said. "We will not attack Megatron and bring unnecessary death and suffering to the mecha of Cybertron."

"I don't think you're seeing the bigger picture here," Prowl said, doorwings twitching in frustration. "This is an opportunity we can't afford to pass up. We could end the war before it even starts. We could take back Kaon and Tarn, capture or kill Megatron, and—"

"No," Orion said again.

"But—"

"The purpose of our army is to protect mecha, not to attack."

"That's not… if we never attack, then how are we going to re-take Kaon or Tarn?"

Orion met his optics with a stubborn expression on his faceplate. "I don't know," he said. "But Kaon and Tarn don't belong to us any more than they belong to Megatron."

"So this isn't our responsibility?" Prowl demanded.

Orion didn't say anything.

"You're the Prime. Isn't the whole planet your responsibility?" Prowl said. "Besides, there are tens of thousands of refugees who had to leave Tarn, and hundreds of thousands of mecha who offlined in Kaon during the take-over, and those city-states are now ruled by a tyrant. I don't think anyone would complain if we take them back."

"You know…" Ironhide said. "I hate to say it, but I think Prowl's got a point. If we have a chance to stop Megatron now instead of letting him gather more power and resources, maybe we should take it.

Orion sighed. "I don't want to discuss this at this point," he said. "Prowl, may I speak with you later this orn about it?"

"You can't just _ignore_ —"

"If Megatron attacks another city-state, we will defend it, but I will _not_ attack him. There has been violence, but so far none of it has been on our end, and until it is absolutely necessary, we will keep it that way. If you have more to say about the matter, you can say it when we speak later."

"I'm not sure if you're stupid, or just cowardly, but—"

"Hey!" Ironhide slammed his fist on the table. "Optimus said to drop it, so we're going to _drop_ the issue."

Prowl glared at him, but forcibly bit back the rest of what he had to say. He would talk to Orion about it privately.

"Thank you, Ironhide," Orion said. "Now, Elita, do you have anything to report?"

* * *

The dark-colored mech knelt before Megatron, waiting.

"Get up," Megatron said. _Listen carefully, Soundwave. They sent someone so promptly, it's suspicious. It's almost as if they were waiting for us to contact them._

The mech stood.

I could already tell we weren't going to be able to trust him.

"If I'm correct," Megatron said. "You're from Quantum."

"I am Quantum," the mech replied. "My designation is Blackangle."

 _He came himself. Interesting. He must be serious about this._

"Well, then," Megatron said. "It's good to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you," Blackangle said. "Likewise. I know you only asked for a representative, but I wanted to meet you personally."

He'd brought a whole group of thugs as well, who were standing by the throne room doors, trying to look intimidating.

It was amusing. Compared to ordinary mecha they might be frightening, but they looked pitiful next to the gladiators at the doors, and they knew it.

Megatron nodded. "I presume you have some sort of a deal in mind already?"

A corner of Blackangle's mouth turned up. "I do. Can we talk in private?"

Megatron nodded. "Out!" he said to the guards. _Soundwave, you stay._

The guards opened the doors and the thugs followed them out into the hallway. The doors shut behind them.

Blackangle looked at me.

"He can be here," Megatron said. "I trust him completely."

"All right," Blackangle said. _I wonder if he's a bodyguard. He's kind of an odd-looking mech._

"As far as I know, you work for the Council," Megatron said.

"I work for the highest bidder," Blackangle said. "But the Council's not doing too well of late."

Megatron nodded.

"And it's more than credit I'm after anyway." _If I don't blow this, I've got it made. King of the world._ "I'm a mech of ambition," he continued. "I worked my way to where I am, but I see an opportunity to expand my influence if I ally myself with you."

Megatron nodded.

"If you hadn't invited me, I'd probably have shown up in another quartex anyway."

"What exactly do you have to offer me?" Megatron asked.

 _Straightforward, down to business._ Blackangle thought. _Good. I can work with this mech. He might be hard to fool, though._

He had no idea.

"I have a network of about fifteen thousand mecha throughout Cybertron, secret ways into every city, plenty of funding, and experience as a leader of a large organization. I also have spies among the ranks of the Autobots, as well as several different Councils. What do you have to offer me?"

"Depending on whether I decide to believe you, and whether I feel like you're going to be useful, you could quickly find yourself in a high position in my army."

"How high?" _Let's see what he's willing to offer—how desperate he is…_

"First, you have to understand that a lot of the mecha in positions right now are gladiators."

Blackangle raised both optic ridges. "How's that working for you?"

"Not as well as I'd hoped."

Blackangle shook his helm. "Thugs don't often make good administrators, present company excepted."

Megatron nodded. "If your organization is as impressive as you say, then you won't need to worry about rising through the ranks. We have an opening in the command element—one of my closest advisers turned out to be a double agent, working for the Autobots."

"That's unfortunate," Blackangle said.

"It is. I hear you know him, though. His designation is Jazz."

"Yes," Blackangle said, surprised. "I haven't seen him for vorns, though. I presume from your word choice that he's still alive."

"He managed to escape," Megatron said. "So we can't confirm his death. Either way, he has left an opening for you if you're interested."

 _Huh._ Blackangle thought. _He was just betrayed, and he's willing to appoint someone he barely knows into the same position? He's more desperate than I thought. Either this will be easy, or there's some sort of catch._

Both. I was the catch.

Megatron kept his gaze on the other mech, studying him suspiciously. _I'm sure he's trying to figure out how to make the most of my offer. I hope he doesn't try to weasel his way into more power than I'm already offering him. I have no patience for haggling._

 _I can do this. I'll just wait until I'm ingrained in the system, then take over. I'll have to be patient, but I've always been patient. This mech has no idea what he's doing. If he was really smart, he'd have kept some of the Tarn Council alive so they could run things for him._

Megatron narrowed his optics. _He'll probably try to offline me at some point, but I can get a lot of good use out of him before that, and Soundwave will warn me._

 _He might try to take my resources and kill me,_ Blackangle mused. _I'll have to make sure he knows my mecha will be loyal to me, not him._ "All right. I'll need an orn to think about it, but I'm probably willing to accept that offer. Do you want to write up some sort of contract?"

"You write up a contract," Megatron said. "And I'll look it over, whenever it's ready."

Blackangle nodded. "Very well."

And that was that.

"I'll return in five orns."

"Good," Megatron said. "I'm not a patient mech."

 _I am,_ Blackangle thought as he turned and walked to the door. _And that's why some orn I'm going to be sitting on that throne of yours. I'll let you do all the work, building your empire. And then I'll slip it right out from beneath you._

Megatron commed the guards to tell them to open the doors just as Blackangle reached them.

Then we were alone again.

"So?" Megatron asked. "I presume we can't trust him."

"Correct."

"But do you think I should accept his help anyway?"

He was really asking me for my opinion. He was fairly certain he could keep ahead of Starscream's schemes, but this mech was different. "I don't like him," I said. "But he wasn't lying about the resources."

Megatron nodded. "We do need resources, and leadership." _We'll work with him for now. But I'll be counting on you, Soundwave, to make sure he doesn't double-cross us._

* * *

Red Alert sat in his office, optics darting from screen to screen, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.

He'd overheard Elita and Chromia talk about the Autobots building their own base.

He hoped they could do that some time soon. The security in this place was sorely lacking, and the places where they kept and trained their soldiers were even worse.

And he knew Mainspring did background checks on everyone they let into the tower, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that the Council or the Decepticons might have some double agents lurking around—even among the commanders. He wasn't sure he trusted Ratchet for one—that mech had been close friends with Soundwave at one point.

Of course, Ratchet was rarely in the tower anymore—he was too busy repairing their soldiers.

He was in an excellent position to sabotage the army if he wanted to.

Red Alert wasn't sure he trusted Mainspring either. He knew Perceptor had vouched for the mech, but just because Perceptor trusted someone didn't make him trustworthy.

And then there was Prowl. Who even _knew_ what went on in that mech's helm? Red Alert still didn't understand why he had abandoned everything to join the Autobots. He certainly didn't seem to like them very much. Furthermore, if he was willing to turn his back on his enforcer colleagues to join the rebellion, he was probably willing to turn his back on Orion.

His argument with the Prime in the meeting earlier that orn was very concerning. Prowl wanted to use the army to attack the Decepticons. That could be disastrous if he was secretly in league with Megatron. It could be disastrous even if he wasn't.

Red Alert would watch him closely for the next several decaorns, just in case he decided to try anything traitorous.

The elevator, which was at the bottom of the tower, started making its way up. Red Alert checked the elevator camera to see that it was just Orion, returning from training. He was early again, just like last orn.

Red Alert checked on Prowl, who was sitting in his office, studying a datapad, then checked to make sure Orion's office was empty, then went looking for Mirage.

Mirage was the absolute _worst_ security threat of all. Red Alert couldn't believe Mainspring had recruited the mech as a spy. It was one of the things that made him think Mainspring might not have their best interests at spark.

As usual, Mirage was nowhere to be found, but that didn't mean he was gone.

Red Alert shuttered his optics for a moment, but just a moment, because he didn't want to miss anything on the screens.

He wished he could clone himself and watch the monitors in shifts.

As it was, there were gaps when he was recharging or in a meeting. He always had _someone_ watching the monitors, of course, but he didn't really trust any of the mecha working under him.

As if in answer to that thought, one of the mecha on duty at the base of the tower commed him.

He immediately switched to the video feed for that room and froze, optics widening.

" _Red Alert, sir?"_ the security guard said. _"This…"_

"Lock the elevator door and don't let him near it," Red Alert said. "Keep him talking or something, I'll get you some back-up."

" _Um… I don't think that's going to be necessary, Sir. He's…"_

"Just do what I tell you, frag it!" Red Alert said, spark pounding frantically.

This was very bad.

* * *

Prowl looked up when his office door opened.

"Oh," he said. "Orion. You're back from training early."

The former librarian sat across from Prowl's desk.

"So…" he said.

Prowl looked down. "I talked to Yoketron about it a little," he admitted. Yoketron had insisted he should accept Orion's decision. "I won't bring it up again."

"Prowl?"

"What?" Prowl snapped. "You obviously don't think my advice means anything."

"That's not true," Orion said. "I _do_ value your advice. But I don't think going on the offensive will help anyone. There will be consequences beyond the scope of winning or losing. If we attack Megatron, it will just give more ammunition to his supporters."

"Unless we beat him once and for all," Prowl said. "Then it won't matter."

"Not all of his supporters are currently in his army," Orion said. "Our public image is good right now."

"Why do you care so much about our public image?" Prowl demanded. "What really matters is beating Megatron, and taking those cities back."

Orion and Prowl locked gazes, but the depths of the Prime's calm determination were too much and Prowl looked away again.

"Will you please think about the other side of things?" Orion asked. "How many of the world's problems will defeating Megatron solve?"

"Several, actually," Prowl said.

"But it will put us in a position where it will be difficult to solve the others. I still haven't given up on Megatronus's ideals. He wants the same thing we do—he's just going about it the wrong way."

"So we should let him do whatever he wants?"

"No," Orion said. "If he attacks another city-state, we will stop him. But even if I didn't think it was morally wrong, I don't want to attack him. Please try to understand."

Prowl sighed. "You still think he's your friend, don't you? You don't want to hurt him."

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Orion said.

Prowl supposed that defeating Megatron at this point _would_ have some negative consequences for their image, but he was fairly sure the benefits would outweigh any costs. "But Megatron will keep hurting other mecha if he's not stopped."

"I know," Orion said.

Prowl crossed his arms, disappointed in his leader. Maybe the Council really shouldn't have made this pacifistic librarian the Prime. "If we don't do something now… if we let Megatron get a good footing, then it could be disastrous. He plans to actually _use_ his army for something. We have to be willing to do the same. You are not an archivist anymore. Please try to see _my_ side of things."

Orion hesitated, then nodded. "All right. You can come up with a plan, and present it at a meeting when it's ready. But don't expect us to attack Megatron unprovoked. I don't want to be responsible for any more lost lives."

Prowl looked at him. Did he realize what he was saying? "Well you're going to be responsible for _many_ more lost lives if we sit back and do nothing."

"No," Orion said firmly. "That's Megatron's reasoning. Sacrifice lives now for others in the future? Do you really think that will stop the fighting? Even if we wipe Megatron's forces out completely, do you think the conflict will end?"

"Yes," Prowl said.

Orion shook his helm.

"Look, we're going to be fighting him anyway. If we are always on the defensive, then he will _always_ be the one to pick the battlefield. I can try to keep casualties to a minimum, but that will be harder if we're always fighting on his terms." Prowl would not budge on this. He was the strategist here. He knew what he was doing.

Orion sighed. "Perhaps in the future, if Megatron stubbornly insists on attacking his neighbors, we will be forced to take direct action against him, but it's not necessary at this point."

"Fine," Prowl said, crossing his arms. "But I'm warning you the longer we let this war go on, the worse it could get."

Orion nodded. "Thank you for the warning."

"Is there anything else?"

Orion shook his helm, then hesitated.

"What?"

The Prime seemed to be trying to make a decision. After a few astroseconds, he sighed. "This is a completely different subject, but I have a question."

"All right," Prowl said.

"Hypothetically… if I were trying to… win a strategy board game. Except my opponent was much better than me. Like if _you_ were my opponent. How would I win?"

Prowl raised an optic ridge.

"I know it's a strange question."

"I won't argue with that," Prowl said.

"But it's a serious question too." Orion said. "How can I win against someone who has much more skill and experience than I do?"

Interesting. Prowl leaned back in his chair to think for a moment. "You can't… I mean, there might be a few ways. It depends on the circumstances. You could try to learn more about the game—most games have tricks that will help you get ahead. Of course, if your opponent knows all the tricks, that's no good. If you can't win through conventional means, you could always cheat, or have someone who is better than your opponent help you…"

"Cheat?" Orion asked, looking a little surprised.

Prowl flicked his doorwings uncomfortably. "Not what you'd expect to hear from me… but Orion, strategy isn't always about being smarter than your opponent. It's about making a better use of your resources. Does that help?"

Orion hesitated, then shook his helm. "Not really. But thank you."

"I'll keep thinking about it," Prowl said. "It might be impossible, depending on the circumstances."

"Thank you," Orion said, standing. "And thank you for being willing to trust me, even if you don't agree with my decisions."

Prowl nodded, and watched him leave, frowning. That had been an odd question…

Oh well. He had work to do. He turned back to his datapad, which he had absentmindedly shut off during their conversation. He turned it on and drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited for it to power up.

At least Optimus had given him permission to work on a plan for attacking Kaon. That was a step in the right direction.

Or… maybe Orion was right. He didn't want to admit that might be a possibility, but…

" _Prowl!"_

Prowl winced, and answered the comm. _"Yes, Red Alert?"_

" _We've caught a Decepticon spy!"_

Oh no, not again. _"Would you notify Mainspring? That's his department not mine, thank you."_

" _I did, but he wouldn't give me permission to put him in a high security cell."_

They had high security cells now? Was he talking about Mirage's vaults?

" _He said to wait, but we don't have time to wait! This isn't some ordinary spy, he's dangerous! I thought you would surely understand. Also, Mainspring must be in league with him. I never trusted that mech."_

Prowl set his datapad down on the desk. _"Red Alert, you know we can trust Mainspring."_

" _But it's Jazz! Surely you know how dangerous he is!"_

Prowl sat up.

" _Prowl?"_

Jazz? Why was Jazz here? He certainly hadn't told them he was coming back—in fact, they hadn't heard from him at all since shortly after Megatron had taken Tarn. That had only been a few orns ago, though, so Prowl hadn't started to worry yet.

Had his cover been blown?

" _Where are you keeping him?"_ he asked.

" _Under guard in one of the waiting rooms at the bottom of the tower. But we need to put him in the vaults…"_

Prowl didn't want to argue. _"First I want to talk to him."_

There was a knock at the door.

" _What do you mean you want to talk to him? That's not safe! Do you even_ know _who he is? You of all mecha should—"_

" _What room is he in?"_ Prowl got up and went to open the door. He wasn't surprised to see Mainspring out in the hallway.

" _Why do you want to talk to him?"_ Red Alert sounded suspicious.

" _I will explain it to you later,"_ Prowl said. _"Depending on what Optimus says."_

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Red Alert huffed. _"Fine. After you talk to him, can I put him in the vaults?"_

" _We will see."_ Most certainly not, unless Jazz intended to go back and pretend to be with the Decepticons some more. Most likely his cover had been blown, and he was going to stay. _"Where is he?"_

Red Alert sent him the location.

"Prowl…" Mainspring said.

"I know," Prowl said. "I just got done talking to Red Alert."

Mainspring nodded and they walked silently out to the main room. Tables had been set up, and an energon dispenser stood in the corner. Mecha around the room chatted and refueled. Prowl saw a couple of mecha from the resources department playing a card game, but he didn't have time to stop and encourage them to get back to work.

They got in the elevator and started going down.

"Do you think he's back for good?" Mainspring wondered.

"Not sure," Prowl replied. "Probably."

"I'm excited to meet him," Mainspring said. "I've found out quite a lot about him and he seems like a very interesting mech."

"You could say that," Prowl said. "I mean, not that I know him very well, but he's definitely got a unique personality."

Mainspring nodded. "I'm also a little worried. If he had decided to come back, why didn't he tell us beforehand?"

"I don't know." That _was_ strange. "Maybe he couldn't for some reason? Or maybe he didn't think it was important."

"If his cover was blown, I'm not sure how he'd be able to get past Soundwave. From what I know, the telepath is very powerful and observant."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not sure," Mainspring said. "And I suppose he'll be able to answer our questions when we talk to him. I'm just… concerned. Something about him showing up here unannounced doesn't seem right."

Prowl nodded.

The elevator hummed as it dropped.

"Also, we don't have anyone in Kaon anymore," Mainspring said. "That's going to make things a little more difficult."

"It'll be hard to send someone, because of Soundwave," Prowl said. "But hopefully Jazz will have some ideas about that, since he avoided detection for so long."

"I still can't imagine how he did it."

"When he approached me about it, he seemed confident he _could_ avoid the telepath's notice," Prowl said. "Though I didn't ask him how."

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As they walked through the entry room, Prowl recalled the last conversation he'd had with Jazz. The mech had seemed almost resigned to being caught and killed when he'd made the offer.

Prowl was relieved that he'd made it back.

They went down the hall and stopped outside a small waiting room. The door was guarded by two of the more intimidating members of Red Alert's staff, and Red Alert was standing outside of it, pacing.

"Thank Primus," he said when he saw them. "Now will you please explain to me _why_ you won't let me lock him up?"

"We're going to talk to him first," Mainspring said. "And then we'll explain. We promise."

"I don't think you fully understand the situation here. Have you researched this mech? He's almost as dangerous as Megatron himself!"

"I think we'll be fine," Prowl said.

"If he tries anything, I hope you know I'll lock the two of you in there with him." Red Alert said.

"It's a deal," Prowl said. "The door, please?"

Red Alert sighed and tapped in the code to the door. He stepped back and Prowl and Mainspring walked inside before the door slid shut behind them.

Jazz looked up at them. The former criminal was sitting on the ground, hands stasis-cuffed behind his back, and oh, Primus… he was missing a leg.

"Hey," Jazz said with a grin. "Looks like ya finally got me locked up. Congratulations, Prowler."

Prowl blinked.

"But really, mech," Jazz leaned forward a little. "I know ya probably don't trust me, but I have information I can give ta ya about the Decepticons."

Prowl glanced at Mainspring who was frowning slightly.

Why did he think they wouldn't trust him?

"What are you talking about?" Prowl said, sending an internal comm. to Mainspring, who answered immediately but didn't say anything.

Jazz sighed. "I… I guess I kind of quit Megatron's army, or something? It was confusing. He just up and tried ta offline me, if ya must know the truth. But that doesn't matter. I shouldn't have picked their side in the first place. Guess I'm just as much of an idiot as I've always been. I know Orion probably won't want me back, but I'm willing ta help ya all as much as I can—as much as ya'll let me, that is."

" _It's not him, is it?"_ Mainspring said. _"This mech doesn't seem to know Jazz was a double agent."_

" _I don't know,"_ Prowl replied. _"I don't know him well enough to tell if it's really him, but… the accent is right. And the attitude."_

"What?" Jazz asked.

"Give us a breem," Prowl said, then spoke over the comm. _"Maybe he's just pretending he doesn't know?"_

" _Why would he do that?"_

" _I don't know. Maybe he hasn't blown his cover and he came back for some other reason. He might not want to speak openly…"_

" _Or maybe this is someone else impersonating him. That sort of thing can happen."_ Mainspring said.

 _"But if his cover_ is _blown, then the Decepticons would know he's a double agent. And otherwise, why would they send someone back here to impersonate him? It doesn't make sense."_

"It's all right if ya don't want me here," Jazz said.

"Don't worry," Prowl told him. "I'm sure Orion will be happy to have you back."

"I don't know if he _should_ let me back," Jazz said, shaking his helm slightly, then glancing curiously at Mainspring.

"This is Mainspring," Prowl said.

"Good ta meet ya mech," Jazz shifted, and Prowl flinched as the stump of Jazz's leg scraped against the ground, but Jazz didn't seem to mind.

"It's good to meet you too," Mainspring said, looking about as confused as Prowl felt. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Huh," Jazz said, with an amused half-smile. "All good things, I'm sure. Look…" He seemed to be staring directly at Prowl, though it was hard to tell behind his visor. "Ya look kinda suspicious, and I get it. I understand if ya don't believe me, but I'm telling the truth. I don't care what ya mechs do with me. I really am just turning myself in unconditionally. I'm sorry I went with Megatron instead of Orion. I wish I knew why, but…" he shook his helm.

"Like I said," Prowl told him. "We're… happy to have you back."

" _Are we, though?"_ Mainspring said over the comm. _"Something's not right about this."_

"Thanks," Jazz replied, looking down.

Prowl frowned, trying to think of some way to prove whether or not this mech was really Jazz. "You should see a medic about that leg."

"What leg?" Jazz stretched out his energon-stained stump, in mock confusion, as if searching for the missing limb. "I don't see it."

Prowl's tanks churned. "That's disgusting… And I'm sure it's painful."

"It's not," Jazz assured him. "I can't feel it at all."

Well that sounded about right. Prowl remembered this mech's trick with his doorwing when they'd been trapped in Perceptor's house.

"Oh, by the way," Jazz said. "How'd ya find out about Megatron's attack on Tarn so early? Is Soundwave secretly working for you mechs or something? He totally let me escape, so I wouldn't be surprised."

Prowl looked at Mainspring, who shook his helm.

"What?" Jazz asked. "Bad question?"

"I don't think you're cleared for the answer," Mainspring said. "Hold on a breem." He tapped on the door, and it opened. Prowl followed him back into the hall, glancing over his shoulder at the confused-looking mech seated on the floor.

The door shut behind them.

"Are you going to tell me what the frag is going on now?" Red Alert demanded.

"I have _no_ idea what's going on," Mainspring said. "But whoever that is, I don't think it can possibly be Jazz."

"What?" Red Alert said.

"I'm not sure we can explain just yet," Mainspring said. "We'll have to talk to Optimus about it first. But for now… you'd better go ahead and secure him in Mirage's vaults. Be very careful—we don't know how dangerous he is."

Prowl's spark sank, but he couldn't argue.

Until they figured out what was going on, they couldn't trust the mech in that room.

Red Alert opened the door and the guards went in and pulled Jazz—or whoever it was—to his one pede. They had to support him as he hopped out of the room.

Red Alert and the guards went one way to take a different elevator up, and Prowl and Mainspring walked back to the main elevator.

"Well…" Mainspring said. "I'm not sure what to think."

"Let's go talk to Optimus," Prowl said. "We should comm. Ratchet too, and see if he has any insights. The two of them probably know Jazz better than the rest of us."

Maybe they would be able to figure out if that mech was really him.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Well, I guess that's what happens when you erase your own memories...

2\. Thanks for reading!


	20. Strategy

Jazz leaned against the wall, staring at the stump at the end of his leg and trying to ignore the uncomfortable stiffness in his arms.

Red Alert had turned the stasis cuffs to the highest setting before locking him in one of Mirage's vaults.

It was kind of amusing. The vaults were designed so it was hard to get in, but they probably wouldn't be that difficult to get out of.

A tiny part of him was tempted to break out and show up in the main meeting room, just to prove that locking him up was a waste of effort on their part.

But he held himself back.

Probably they'd just kick him out or hand him over to enforcement or something if they thought he wasn't going to be cooperative.

Prowl and that other mech—Mainspring or whatever his designation was—had kept looking at each other like they were confused about something. They'd probably been having a conversation over the comm. about what to do with him.

He hoped they decided to listen to him at least.

Maybe he shouldn't have tried to impose himself on the Autobots. Maybe he should have just written them a message or something. But where else was he supposed to go?

He tried to lean his helm against the wall, but his neck had seized up. Slowly he rolled his helm back and forth until it was a little more mobile. In a couple of joors, if they left the stasis cuffs on him, it would be hard to move at all, and his arms and shoulders would probably be so stiff and sore that he wouldn't be able to recharge.

If they left him here that long, he might give in and slip free of the cuffs.

A low energon warning flashed in the corner of his vision.

At least he was online.

At least he was online, and at least he'd escaped from the Decepticons, and at least he couldn't feel his leg. You couldn't do anything at all with your pain grid when you were wearing stasis cuffs, so if he could still feel the injury, sitting here would probably be a lot more unpleasant.

Jazz leaned his helm against the wall and shuttered his optics.

He wished he had someone to talk to, at least.

He heard distant pedesteps and focused on that, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. He could feel the faint vibrations through the wall. Someone must be nearby.

The noise got louder, and then the door opened.

Well, that was fast. Had they made a decision about him already? Maybe Orion wanted to talk to him.

He was yanked to his pedes and guided from the vault. They had to half-carry him because the stasis cuffs were set so high, but they'd probably need to drag him anyway because of his missing pede.

He'd made himself familiar with the entirety of Mirage's tower within the first few orns of moving there, so he knew the route they were taking. He guessed correctly that they were bringing him up to the main floor.

It was bustling and busy—he recognized a few mecha, but there were some he didn't know too. A lot of them stared at him. They probably didn't see one-legged prisoners being dragged through the base very often.

They took him to the meeting room, where Prowl, Red Alert, Ratchet, and Orion were all sitting, waiting expectantly.

The guards sat Jazz down stiffly in a chair.

"Thank you," Orion said calmly. "You can go."

Jazz shuttered his optics as the guards left the room. The big librarian's voice was strangely comforting, but made Jazz feel guilty at the same time.

Primus, why had Jazz gone with Megatron? Of all the stupid mistakes he'd made, that one had to be the worst. He thought he had _learned_ something from his time in Quantum.

"Really, Red Alert?," Prowl's voice said, and Jazz looked up to see the former enforcer stand from his seat.

"Really what?" Red Alert grumped.

Prowl walked around the table to where Jazz was sitting and turned the stasis cuffs down to a much more manageable level.

Jazz let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, mech," he murmured.

Prowl didn't respond, but went back to sit by Orion.

"What the pit happened to your leg?" Ratchet demanded.

Jazz grinned. "I'll give ya a hint. Don't ever make Megatron mad when he's pointing that arm cannon at ya."

Ratchet glared at him, pushing away from the table. "Are you insane? Did you cross the entire fragging planet like that?"

Jazz shrugged.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Uh… no," Jazz said.

Ratchet walked over to him. "You didn't do that _thing_ you did with Prowl's doorwing where you cut the nerve cable..."

"Um… might have done that, yeah," Jazz said. "I don't see what your problem with it is, mech."

Grumbling, Ratchet knelt by him and scanned his leg.

"So…" Jazz said, daring to look up at Orion, who had a concerned expression on his faceplate and hadn't spoken yet. "I have information I can give ya about the Decepticons… and I'd be happy ta join the Autobots, but I know ya probably can't trust me…"

He trailed off. They were looking at him weird again.

"What?"

"There's something we're… confused about," Prowl said. "Jazz, is there some reason… that you came back _now_?"

Jazz frowned. "I mean, yeah. Ashamed ta say I didn't leave the 'Cons on my own. I think Megatron just decided ta stop trusting me or something. He tried ta lock me up, and I ran for it… it's pretty simple. I don't think he trusts anymech, except for Soundwave."

And they'd taken his datapad—the one he knew would tell him why he'd joined the Decepticons. Maybe that had something incriminating on it—something he had wanted to keep from himself… but why had he wanted to hide the reason he'd joined the Decepticons from himself?

"Okay," Prowl said. "Here's another question. Are you missing any memories?"

Jazz stared at him. "How… yeah, actually. I'm missing a lot of memories. I think…" he looked down at the table. Should he explain? He _did_ know he'd wanted to keep the existence of that datapad a secret.

Oh well.

"…I think there was a reason I joined the Decepticons. I wrote it down on a datapad, and then made it really hard ta get inta the datapad. I told myself if I ever questioned my loyalty, I should hack it and read it. But I don't remember what I _wrote_ on the datapad, and I don't think I ever… Actually I guess I might have read it a few times, and then erased the memories for some reason."

He looked up to see every single mech around the table staring at him in horror.

"What?" he asked.

Silence.

"Well…" Mainspring said at length. "I suppose that would explain it all."

Orion put his faceplate in his hands.

"You _what!"_ Ratchet demanded. "You _erased your own memories!?_ "

"I don't know, probably," Jazz said, grinning. "I can't remember."

"Do you have any idea what you've done? You could have accidentally erased _everything._ That could have permanently damaged your memory recall functions, or even _offlined_ you. Are you _fragging crazy!?"_

Jazz ignored Ratchet's blustering and looked up at Prowl, realization dawning in his processor. "Wait… Was I...?"

"You were _never_ a Deception," Prowl said.

Everything clicked into place. "Aw, frag," Jazz grinned. "I've been beating myself up for orns wondering why the pit I'd sided with that crazy gladiator anyway. But I didn't, did I? That's a relief."

"A relief?" Ratchet said. "I don't think so. Orion, I'm taking him to my office. I need to make sure he hasn't permanently damaged himself."

"I was really a double agent?" Jazz said.

"Yes," Prowl said. "We had no idea how you were hiding from Soundwave, though. That…" The Praxian looked sort of ill.

Jazz laughed, shaking his helm. "All of ya were giving me such weird looks. I'm a genius though, aren't I? Just wish I could remember how I came up with that idea…"

"This is _not_ something to joke about!" Ratchet pulled his wrench from subspace, brandishing it threateningly.

Jazz flinched away from him. "Hey, no beating up injured mecha. Isn't that some sort of medic rule?"

"Well," Prowl said. "Orion?"

Orion sat up again. "Jazz?"

"Yes, Sir?" Jazz said brightly.

He knew that as soon as the relief wore off he'd probably be kind of upset about the memories too, but right now he was just glad he wasn't going to end up out on the streets, or in jail or something like that.

He was an Autobot. He had been one all along.

He _had_ learned from his mistakes.

"In light of everything… I'm almost glad we blew your cover by evacuating mecha from Tarn."

Jazz nodded.

"We're relieved to have you back," Orion continued. "And we'll discuss what to do going forward after Ratchet has examined you and you've had some rest. Does that sound reasonable?"

There was hesitant nodding around the room.

"Good," Ratchet said. "Red Alert, take these things off of him so I can get him to my office."

Red Alert got up and came over to take the stasis cuffs off. Jazz rolled his stiff shoulders, wincing. He glanced at the security mech, who muttered what might have been an apology and left the room.

"Come on," Ratchet said, helping Jazz to his one pede. "You need some energon, before anything else."

That, Jazz could agree with.

* * *

Councilor Halogen looked around the room. Only a few members of the Council—his closest advisors—were there.

That was good, because he was about to act without first putting his decision to a vote.

He didn't want to bother with that, and there was no time. The war had to end as quickly as possible—Halogen's superiors were already displeased that their plans were being disrupted.

And if Orion would not work with the Council, their only option was to encourage Megatron to end this conflict quickly. They could kill him and re-establish the peaceful order in the world afterward.

The gladiator had even less political experience than Orion, and it should be easy to manipulate him.

"Are our communications secure?"

"Yes, Lord Halogen,"

"Excellent. Contact him."

He waited several astroseconds, steeling himself as the screen at the back of the Council Hall lit up. He much preferred it when mecha came in person, and he could peer down at them on the distant Council floor.

The rebel gladiator's faceplate appeared on the screen.

"Good orn, Megatron." Halogen said. "Thank you for being willing to speak with us."

"I suppose you want to make some sort of deal with me?" Megatron asked.

He was far too direct. Far too easy to anticipate. That would make this easy. "We would like, at the very least, to open communications with you," Halogen said.

Megatron scowled. "You're lucky I'm even willing to talk to you once. I only agreed because I have a question for you."

Halogen raised an optic ridge. "Really?"

"Yes. Where is the Institute?"

The Institute? Halogen was taken aback. What interest did Megatron have in the Institute?

Senator Decimus spoke up. "It was destroyed,"

Megatron narrowed his optics. "You really expect me to believe that?"

"Why is this so important to you?" Halogen asked.

"Because it's an abomination," Megatron said. "And if I expose it and put a stop to it, then I'll be able to sway the public more to my side."

Interesting. That was a clumsy sort of reason, and if it was the _real_ reason, Halogen doubted the gladiator would tell him.

"As Senator Decimus has pointed out," Halogen said. "That program has been discontinued—"

"Stop lying," Megatron said. "And tell me where it is, or you won't be able to speak with me again. I don't need you or your games. If you don't start answering my questions, then I will terminate the comm, and the next time you see me will be the orn you offline."

"Do not feel you can threaten us," Halogen said.

"Why not?" Megatron asked. "Do you really think Orion and his little army are going to protect you? Do you really think he won't turn a blind optic if I show up to offline his enemies for him? You appointed him as a Prime because you thought you could control him better than you could control me. However, even _he_ outmaneuvered you, and now he commands his own army, outside of your influence."

Halogen looked down—Megatron had summed that up nicely.

"Is that why you contacted me?" Megatron asked. "Are you going to apologize for making that spark-eater a Prime instead of me?"

Halogen had not intended to appoint a Prime at all.

It had just sort of… happened. In the moment, there had been no question. The experience had shaken him in ways he couldn't afford to be shaken—not when they were so close.

"Tell me where the Institute is," Megatron said. "You have five astroseconds before I end the communication."

"The Institute was hardly our largest project," Halogen said. "And by all means not too successful. I don't believe knowing its location will help you at all."

"Then you shouldn't have any problems telling me where it is," Megatron said. "Three astroseconds."

"If you want to make a deal with us—"

"I _don't_ ," Megatron said. "Tell me where the Institute is and I may reconsider."

Halogen glanced to the side. Ratbat looked as if he wanted to say something, but was holding back for some reason.

"Time's up," Megatron said. "The next time you contact me, I expect to receive coordinates."

The screen went black.

Halogen frowned. Something about that conversation felt wrong. Had Megatron really just contacted him to make some random, unreasonable demand?

"Councilor Halogen?" Ratbat said.

"Yes, Senator?"

"What if we give him what he wants? Tell him where the Institute is?"

Halogen frowned at his subordinate. "And what would that accomplish?"

"If we tell him, _and_ the Autobots, and find a way to get the timing right, we could force some sort of confrontation between the two sides and maybe hasten the end of the conflict. Barring that, we could set a trap."

"Ratbat, that's ludicrous," Decimus said. "Besides, the Institute is important, isn't it?"

"Not as important as ending the war," Ratbat said.

"How exactly do you propose to get the timing right?" Halogen wondered. "Surely we can't expect both armies to mobilize as soon as they learn the Institute's location."

"Perhaps not," Ratbat said. "But if we give them a time window—say we let slip information about the Institute moving to a new location some time in the next few decaorns. Then I'm sure both sides will make an appearance."

Halogen frowned.

"I don't think that will end the war," Decimus said. "They're unlikely to send large numbers of troops unless they have some reason."

"But—"

"Hold your peace, Ratbat, I'm not done talking," Decimus said. "If we ensure that the Autobots win that fight over the Institute, there might be a way to get Optimus back under our control before it's too late."

"Not your stupid ransom idea," Ratbat said.

Decimus narrowed his optics. "It's better than the idea _you_ just presented. Yes, let's just tell both sides where the Institute is and _hope_ they show up at the same time and bring enough of their armies that they all kill each other and the war ends."

Ratbat glared at him.

"Stop bickering like sparklings," Halogen said. "Senator Decimus, your proposal is a gamble. So is yours, Ratbat. However… if we are subtle enough, we may be able to maneuver this situation so that every outcome benefits us in some way."

"But…" another Councilor said. "Are we really going to sacrifice the Institute? Didn't…" he trailed off, but Halogen and the others knew what he was referring to.

"As Ratbat said," Halogen looked down at his podium. "Ending the war is more important. And we can pick up where we left off with the Institute when things have settled down."

He looked around at his fellow Councilmechs.

"Are there any objections?"

Silence.

"Very well. We will begin working on a plan." He commed his secretary, who replied immediately.

" _Yes, Grand Councilmech?"_

" _Contact Neurosis. Tell him he's going to need to move in a few decaorns and he should be ready."_

* * *

 _I can't believe I had to speak with those worthless pit-spawn._ Megatron glared at the blank screen in front of him. _So smug and sure of themselves… I'll kill them all some orn._

Halogen sent a comm. to someone. My fingers flew on the keyboard as I intercepted the message and initiated the process of decrypting it.

Megatron saw me move out of the corner of his optic, and looked in my direction. _Did you pick something up?_

While Megatron had spoken to the Council, I'd been carefully hacking into their communications system. I'd been trying to figure out how to do it for more than an orn, and even then I wasn't sure it would work.

But it had.

There were always holes, in every system.

 _Soundwave?_

"Wait," I said.

I finished decrypting the message to the assistant, just as I caught another message leaving the assistant's computer console.

" _Contact Neurosis. Tell him he's going to need to move in a few decaorns and he should be ready."_

Perfect. I started trying to trace the second message.

"Well?" Megatron asked.

"Ten breems," I replied. Patience. We had the trail, and I just needed to follow it to the end.

It took six breems to track it. "Tagan Heights," I said, then listed the coordinates.

"Perfect," Megatron replied. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Soundwave."

I shrugged, then looked back at my computer console.

This felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. Megatron… but he still had Searchlight in him, somewhere. "Maybe…"

"What?" Megatron asked.

"If the Co-ouncil's evil for using the institute and hi-iring Quantum, what do-oes that ma-a-ake us?"

Megatron looked at me. _You already know my motives are different from theirs. There's a difference between bringing up valid moral concerns and playing devil's advocate._ "You know, Soundwave?" he said. "I think I'd like you better if you didn't talk so much."

I looked down.

"Don't take it personally," Megatron got up from the throne and left the room.

I stood at my computer, looking at the screen, but not really seeing it.

Apparently he was tired of me questioning his decisions.

But…

Primus, _someone_ had to warn him when he was about to do something he might regret later. That had always been my role—even back when we were mechlings.

It didn't stop him all the time, but sometimes it made him think.

Then again, he was right. His motives were different from the Council's. The Council were thoroughly corrupt and made use of these resources for their own gain.

Megatron was going to use them for a different purpose.

It would be all right.

I couldn't leave him now—he was digging himself too deep into trouble. Without me, Starscream or Blackangle or _someone_ was sure to turn on him and stab him in the back. I had to trust that things would work out—that I could help him before it was too late. I had to believe that the Searchlight in him could overcome the gladiator. I knew it could. Searchlight could overcome anything.

He'd been doing better back when we were still in Iacon. If only Orion hadn't pulled that stunt with the Council, things would be fine. Maybe things could be like that again, though, once the war was over and everything was settling down again.

I tried to get back to work. We had a lot to do, and I had to make sure no one stood in our way.

But I couldn't help wondering.

In the end, when I looked back... would this whole thing really be worth it?

* * *

Orion moved.

Logos Prime moved.

The game was over.

"How many times have you attempted this trial?" Logos Prime asked.

He always asked that, every time. Orion was getting really sick of playing this game "Six," he said. "Why do you ask?"

He didn't expect an answer. The old Prime rarely said anything during the game. "Why do I ask?"

"Yes," Orion said. "You always ask how many times I've done it before. Don't you already know?"

"No," Logos Prime said. "I don't."

He didn't know?

"You have failed to beat me," Logos said. "This trial will end now."

The glass room disappeared, and for a moment, Orion was floating in a sea of stars.

And then he was in the crystal garden again.

"That was your shortest one yet," Master Yoketron said. "I assume you didn't succeed?"

Orion shook his helm.

"Perhaps you could ask someone—maybe Prowl—to teach you how to play the game better."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out. "Master Yoketron?"

"Yes?"

"You almost always ask whether I've passed the trial. What would happen if I simply claimed to have passed it?"

Yoketron raised an optic ridge.

"Not that I _would_ do that..."

"Well, If I recall, there's some mechanism in place so you can't skip any of the trials. I think the files won't open in your processor unless you've completed the previous one, or something like that."

Orion looked down.

"That's not a good option anyway," Yoketron said. "You don't need to cheat. You can do this. Did you learn anything new this time?"

"Yes, actually," Orion said. "He doesn't remember the previous times I've attempted the trial. Maybe I can learn something from his strategy and then use it the next time."

"Hmmm…" Yoketron said. "That would be good."

"I've been thinking there must be some sort of trick to this one, like there was to the first one," Orion said. "I just need to figure out what it is. In that one, the walls weren't real. In this one… I need to find a way to use my resources."

"Hmm…" Yoketron said again. "Well, what are your resources, Orion?"

Orion thought. "The only things in the room are a table, chairs, the game, me, and Logos Prime. I guess I could refuse to play. Or I could knock the game off the table. I doubt that trying to cheat will help me."

"Definitely not," Yoketron said. "Logos must have been the one to come up with this trial. If I know him at all I doubt he would have left a way to cheat."

"You know him?"

Yoketron nodded. "I've met all of them, except for Micronus. I even met Megatronus once…" he grimaced. "He's decidedly unpleasant. I hope I never run into him again."

"Do you… wait, _what?_ "

"Yes. The great legend of evil," Yoketron said. "The one your gladiator friend designated himself after. Someone was spreading rumors that I was the greatest fighter on the planet, and I guess Megatronus wanted to come find out if that was true."

"You… _fought_ him?"

"And lost miserably," Yoketron said. "I held my own just barely long enough for some of the other original thirteen to show up and save me."

"I thought… I thought all of the original thirteen were offline."

"Except for Alpha Trion?"

"Well…" Orion said. "I didn't find out he was _the_ Alpha Trion until recently. Of course, I suppose there's also Maccadam. But…"

"Maybe some of them are offline," Yoketron said. "But you forget I've been around since the second Quintesson war."

Orion shook his helm. "You've met Prima? Solus? Vector? What are they like? Do you think they _are_ still online somewhere? Could you contact them if you wanted to?"

"We've gotten off the subject," Yoketron said. "You were asking me about Logos Prime."

"Yes." Orion tried to focus. "Logos Prime. Do you know anything about him that might be useful?"

"Well…" Yoketron said, frowning. "I don't know Logos very well, but from what I do know, he doesn't like to get directly involved in anything. He's more the sit back and make commentary type. I'm sorry, that's not very respectful. Probably not helpful either…"

"He doesn't seem particularly talkative," Orion said. "But when I asked a question, he answered."

"Not talkative, huh?" Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "That doesn't seem right."

Orion tilted his helm to the side, an idea forming in his processor. Yoketron was quiet, watching him.

"Let me try again," Orion said.

Yoketron nodded.

Orion readied himself, balancing his frame and shuttering his optics while he waited for Yoketron to slip the data stick into the port in the back of his helm.

And then he was back in the stars. He took a moment to stare out into the inky, spark-speckled expanse. This trial, despite being frustrating, was much nicer than the first one.

"Welcome, Prime," Logos said. Orion kept looking out at the stars. It all seemed so calm and peaceful from here. He knew it wasn't, though. Stars burned themselves out, planets collided. You just couldn't tell from so far away.

"In order to pass this test," Logos Prime said. "You must win against me at this board game."

A sudden thought came to Orion's processor. "What would happen if I didn't know how to play that board game?"

"Ah," Logos said. "That is a good question. Though, you _do_ know how to play it. Its rules came from your processor. Obviously, it would be foolish for me to arbitrarily pick a board game. What if mecha had stopped playing it? It's hard to win a game you don't know how to play."

"How do _you_ know how to play it?" Orion turned.

"Young Prime, I believe I just told you that."

He waited. Orion thought back. "You got the rules from my processor."

"Yes," Logos said.

"What if I hadn't known _any_ strategy games?"

"Well, in that case I have a default one." Logos said.

"You don't remember the last time I attempted this trial, do you?"

"No. I don't."

"You aren't _really_ Logos Prime, are you?"

"Of course not," Logos said. "Just a program he coded. He put all of his talent for strategy as well as his personality in me, though, so I might as well be him."

"Ok…" Orion said.

"Would you like to begin? As the guest here, you may take the first turn."

Orion sat at the table. "You've never been this talkative before."

"I haven't?"

"No. But then again, I didn't ask questions before."

Logos nodded. "Go ahead and move."

Orion looked at the board, then moved a piece. "Will you answer any question I ask?"

"Within reason," Logos said, and moved. "How many times have you attempted the trial?"

"This is my seventh. Why? Is that important?"

"No, I'm just curious."

Orion studied Logos. There were a lot of things he'd like to ask, but he needed to stay on topic. "So you'll answer my questions… will you tell me how to beat you at the game?" The other mech looked up. His brilliant, blue-white optics seemed to stare right past Orion. It was eerie.

"That is a very bold request, young Prime."

"I figured I might as well ask." Orion said. "So…"

Logos seemed to give up on the creepy, solemn expression and he sighed. "You've only attempted seven times?" he asked. "Really? It's meant to take mecha dozens of times before they get smart enough to try _talking_ to me and asking for help."

Orion's spark leaped. Was this really going to work?

"You must be quite the Prime. What's your designation, by the way?"

"Orion," Orion said. "Or… I suppose it's Optimus Prime now."

"Optimus Prime," Logos said. "A good designation. All right." He looked down at the board. "Your biggest advantage is that I've never actually played this game before. I've played some like it, but this wasn't invented until after I coded the trial. I can still beat you, of course, but with a little study and experimentation, I can come up with some tricks for you to use next time. This is a good, well-built game, so it might not be solvable, but…"

"It's really that easy?" Orion asked. "You'll just teach me how to beat you?"

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Logos asked. "Of course, you have to ask the right question. And I get to decide whether I think you're being humble enough for my help. You'd be surprised how many don't think to ask their opponent for advice."

"Well," Orion said. "Normally, your opponent doesn't want to help you."

"Right," Logos said. "But see, these trials aren't about us trying to stop you. We want you to grow to be able to withstand the great ordeal it is to receive the Matrix. This one isn't about winning by brute force, this one is about thinking outside the box and being humble and teachable. You've done well at the thinking and humility. Let's see if you're teachable, shall we?" He gestured to the board.

Orion nodded, and looked down at the game board.

* * *

Orion un-shuttered his optics, then shook his helm and got up. He stretched, feeling stiff.

"Are you all right?" Yoketron asked. "You were in there quite a while."

"Yes," Orion said, checking his internal timepiece. "I'm doing wonderfully."

"Did you pass the trial?"

"No. But I will next time."

"You should probably go and try again next orn. It's getting late."

Orion shook his helm. He needed to do this while it was all still fresh in his processor. "It shouldn't take too long. I need to go one more time."

"What happened?"

"I talked to him," Orion said. "He was actually very helpful. But I need to do the trial again. Just one more time."

"Very well," Yoketron said.

Orion sat again.

It had taken a long time for Logos to teach him. Orion wasn't terrible, but his processor had definitely not been built for this kind of strategy.

The world dissolved and stars replaced the soft light of the crystal garden.

Logos Prime was there, with his board game.

This time Orion was ready. He sat and made the first move.

Logos moved exactly as his other self had predicted he would.

Orion made a show of thinking hard, then moved again.

The other mech moved.

The game went for a while before Logos made a move that Orion hadn't been expecting. It set him back a little, but he kept going. Before too long, he had everything in the formation that the former Logos had wanted him to.

The other mech studied the board thoughtfully. "You really think that's going to work?" he asked, then moved.

"No," Orion said, before making his move.

"No?" Logos asked, looking at the board again.

"But you seemed to think so." Orion pushed the last piece into place. "I win."

Logos Prime stared at the bored for a moment, then looked up at him and sighed. "It seems you do. I hate losing, but it's in the name of a good cause, I suppose. How many times have you attempted this trial?"

"This is my eighth." Orion said.

"So few," Logos said. "Someone outside of this must have given you a hint about it. You _did_ ask me for help last time, didn't you?"

"Yes," Orion said. "And I suppose I did have some advice, but it wasn't about the trial specifically."

Logos nodded. "Well, fair is fair. Young Prime, you have beaten me at this game, and therefore have succeeded at this trial. You may proceed to the next."

"Thank you," Orion said. "It was good to meet you."

"Likewise," Logos said. "Good luck."

Orion nodded.

And then the room disappeared, and Orion fell out into the stars.


	21. Opportunity Cost

Jazz stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

He'd spent the off-cycle in Ratchet's office, but hadn't gotten much recharge.

In some ways it was nice to be back here, where you could get decent medical care and you didn't have to worry about telepaths listening in on your thoughts.

And things made sense now. He was fairly sure he understood what had been on that datapad. He understood why he had gone with the Decepticons, and why he'd stayed with them. He didn't have to worry about that anymore.

But he was still on edge.

He'd seen Megatron's forces so he knew how powerful the gladiator was. And now, he was going to be fighting on the other side. He had no idea what kind of resources the Autobots had. He didn't know, or trust a lot of the new mecha here.

And he really didn't know what his role would be, or what his future would hold.

He forced himself not to react when Ratchet's office door opened, but covertly glanced over to see Orion enter and sit down at Ratchet's desk.

"Hey, mech," Jazz said when Orion didn't speak.

"Were you recharging? I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"Nah," Jazz sat up. "I was just thinking."

Ratchet was still working on building a new leg for him, but he'd fitted a long rod on the end of the stump so Jazz could sort of walk while he was waiting for the replacement.

"How are you feeling?"

"Great," Jazz said. "I'm ready ta get right ta work. Whatever ya need me ta do."

Orion looked down at his hands.

Jazz's spark sank. "So…" he said.

"We are very grateful for the sacrifices you made to provide us information."

Jazz waited expectantly for the mech to continue.

"But… Prowl, Mainspring, and I have discussed it and we're concerned that you were willing to delete your own memories to stay undercover. We…"

"I mean, it's dangerous," Jazz cut in. "But I knew what I was doing. Ya can ask Ratchet—all my other memories are intact."

"I know you were careful," Orion said. "But the fact that you were willing to harm yourself in such a way is… concerning."

"In my line of work, ya gotta be willing ta do whatever it takes," Jazz said.

Orion was silent.

Jazz sighed. "It's okay," he said. "I'll understand if ya don't trust me. I wouldn't trust me either, not with my past."

"I am not worried about you betraying us to Megatron or the Council," Orion said. "But I am worried that your past will inform your decisions and impair your judgment."

Well, that was like a punch to the tanks.

"Can you promise me you won't erase your memories again, or ask anyone else to do so?"

Jazz shuttered his optics. "So long as Soundwave's a Decepticon, I can't make that promise. Maybe in the future, I'll be able ta come up with a workaround, but for now…"

"Then can you understand why I'm concerned?"

"I mean, I guess," Jazz said. "But like I said, ya don't have ta trust me. I can leave if ya want. I kinda knew deep down… I've never really been what ya needed in your organization."

If they kicked him out, he'd have to find the nearest detention center and turn himself in again.

It was only fair.

But he couldn't bring that up, because Orion would feel bad about it.

"I want to trust you," Orion said. "And I do think we could use your help. You're a better mech than you believe you are."

Jazz shook his helm.

"I just need to know you won't lose the progress you've made since leaving Quantum. In fact, I need to know you'll keep progressing."

Jazz tilted his helm to the side. "What do ya mean?"

"The situation with the Decepticons is quickly getting out of hand. I still want to try to minimize the cost in lives and energon, even if war is unavoidable."

Jazz nodded.

"Megatron doesn't care about what this war will cost. But I do, and I need everyone who works with me to care as well. As far as I've been told, you have a history of not taking consequences into account. But you must learn to change that. You see, that's what _has_ to be different about the Autobots. We _have_ to care about the cost. If we lose the war but save lives, it _has_ to be worth it to us. If I'm going to trust you, I need to know you're going to care more about lives than goals."

Jazz wasn't sure how to respond to that. Sometimes in order to keep your processor clear, you had to stop caring—you had to block out emotion. In any kind of war you saw mecha offline, and you couldn't let yourself feel it because it would break you.

"And that includes your own life, and your own health," Orion continued.

"Caring's a tricky thing," Jazz said quietly. "It drives ya crazy sometimes."

"Well, not caring drives you crazy _all_ the time."

Jazz thought of Megatron and Soundwave.

"If you stop caring, you stop making choices based on what's right."

Jazz took in a deep vent and let it out. "Ya want me ta care more."

"Yes," Orion said. "To care more about yourself, and about other mecha. I know that's hard, but that is the price of being an Autobot. We will not lose sight of what matters most, and if you want to be one of us, you have to promise that you won't either."

Jazz watched Orion, trying to work through that request. He knew mecha thought he didn't care, and maybe in some ways they were right. But he _did_ care about the cost, he just thought paying it was worth it sometimes.

If he didn't stick with the Autobots, he'd have to turn himself back in to enforcement.

They'd probably kill him.

And he would deserve it.

But if Orion needed his help—if they were willing to accept his help, could he really turn his back on them? Just because he didn't want to try to be better than his past self?

There was really only one answer. "Okay. I… I can try."

"Thank you," Orion looked at him, and Jazz felt like the mech was staring right past his visor into his optics. It was almost unnerving.

This mech was different than he'd been before Megatron had left Autobot. He was older, more commanding. Wiser.

"What?" Orion asked.

"Ya grew up a lot while I was gone, mech."

Orion smiled. "I think we all have."

"I don't think I did, much," Jazz muttered.

"Well, perhaps you can work on it in the future," Orion said. "Now, we have a meeting in a few breems, which I'd like to invite you to attend."

Jazz looked up. "A meeting?"

"Yes," Orion said. "But first, do you mind if I invite someone else in to speak with you?"

"Uh… sure," Jazz said.

An astrosecond later, the door opened and that green and gray mech, Mainspring, came in.

"I don't know if you've been officially introduced to Mainspring yet…" Orion said.

Jazz shook his helm. "I mean, sort of." He searched the older mech's faceplate and saw a sort of guarded curiosity there.

Orion continued. "Mainspring has been running intelligence and special operations here while you were in Kaon."

"Ah," Jazz said. That made sense. "And… I suppose ya'll want me in your department. I mean, I guess I'm already in it, with doin' the whole double agent thing." He'd have to determine whether he could trust this mech.

"Actually," Mainspring said. "We had something else in mind. We were a little worried, but…" he glanced at Orion.

"We can trust him," Orion said. "I'm certain of it."

Jazz looked down, feeling wholly unworthy of Orion's approval.

But he was also curious now. "Okay… what did ya have in mind?"

"Well," Mainspring said. "I've been an archivist, a professor at the Iacon Academy, and a psychologist. I'm good at organization, research, background checks, and that sort of thing. But I have very little experience in the field of actual espionage. You, from what I know, are the exact opposite. So, my idea was to split my department and put you in charge of half of it. Your title would be head of special operations, and I would still be over intelligence."

Huh. Jazz wasn't so sure about that—he understood why they had been so concerned about what he'd done now. They wanted to put him in charge of other mecha and they probably didn't want his recklessness rubbing off on them.

He'd never really been in charge of anyone before. He'd been an adviser to Megatron, but that was different.

"You don't need to decide immediately," Mainspring said, probably picking up on his concern. "In fact, I think if we let you start working right away, Ratchet would have a fit."

Jazz nodded. The orange and white menace was quite prone to those. That mech was crazy. He'd _insisted_ on testing all sorts of things in Jazz's helm to make sure he hadn't damaged anything by tampering with his memories.

At least Ratchet cared, though—that was more than Jazz deserved, given their history.

"But if you're willing to take the position…" Mainspring trailed off.

"Let me get this straight," Jazz said. "I'd be in charge of the field work."

"Yes," Mainspring said.

"And you'd do all the paperwork?"

"Yes. And we could also keep an optic on each other, just in case. It's not good to have just one person in charge of all the information."

Jazz nodded. That whole situation sounded too good to be true.

If only he was qualified for that sort of thing. Orion might trust him, but Jazz doubted other mecha would if they knew who he was. "Well… I'd love ta take ya up on that. But in all your background checks, did ya happen ta do one on me?"

"Yes," Mainspring said. "Quite an extensive one, actually."

"Then ya'll know I'm probably not the sort of mech ya want in charge."

Mainspring nodded. "You do have a point. However, while you made some very poor decisions in your past, I think it was due more to bad judgment than a complete lack of morals."

Jazz looked down. "I don't see how that's much better."

"It's significantly better, so long as you're willing to learn from your mistakes," Mainspring said. "But if you're still concerned about your qualifications, I'd be happy to talk to you in private after the meeting."

Jazz looked at Mainspring's faceplate. He seemed honest. Too honest to be head of intelligence. But then again, they were all too honest. Everyone, except for Jazz. "Give me some time ta think about it."

Mainspring nodded.

"Answer's probably yes, because I'm willing ta do anything ya mechs ask me to, but… Yeah, I'll want ta talk to ya after this meeting."

"The meeting is in five breems," Orion said. "I'm sure you need rest, so you don't have to come, but we would be glad to have you there to report on your time among the Decepticons."

Jazz nodded. "I'll be there."

"Thank you."

And with that, they left him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Orion sat at the table between Prowl and Ironhide, and looked around the room. It was time for the meeting to start but there were still a few empty chairs, so he decided to give everyone an extra breem.

He tried to catch Elita's attention, but she was either distracted or intentionally refusing to look at him.

Red Alert came in and made his way to his seat. He looked upset, but that was nothing new.

Then, finally, Jazz slipped in and limped on his peg leg to the remaining seat at the table.

Orion stood. "Welcome, everyone," he said.

"Hey!" Ratchet snapped, glaring at Jazz. "What are you doing out of my office?"

Jazz shrugged with a small smirk. "I don't know, mech… I can't remember."

"You—"

"Ratchet, I invited him," Orion said.

Ratchet glared across the table at Jazz, who leaned back in his chair, still smirking. That was a dangerous game—Orion might want to talk to Jazz about not goading the irritable medic.

Also, now the attention of the entire room was on Jazz.

"Um, as you can see," Orion said. "We have Jazz with us again. For anyone who doesn't already know, he was acting as a double agent, sending us information from the Decepticons. It is because of his efforts that we were able to evacuate so many mecha from Tarn."

Not everyone seemed happy to hear that. Notably, Ironhide crossed his arms and narrowed his optics, and Chromia frowned suspiciously. Jazz himself looked uncomfortable, which, from Orion's memory of the mech, seemed unusual.

"Ok," Ironhide said. "How did he get past Soundwave?"

"He—"

Optimus cut Ratchet off. "That isn't relevant for this conversation. You can ask him later, Ironhide."

"Why is he here?" Red Alert said. "I mean, I know why he's here, but why is he _here_ in this meeting?"

"I would like him to report on his time among the Decepticons," Orion said. "And contribute to the meeting. We may integrate him into the command element in the near future as well."

"We can't _trust_ him!" Red Alert insisted.

"I believe we can," Prowl said, before Orion could speak. "After all, if he were untrustworthy, would he have been willing to put himself in so much danger?"

"We don't know what happened while he was with the Decepticons," Red Alert hissed. " _He_ doesn't even know—"

"I have decided to trust him," Orion said. "Red Alert, if you have concerns, please come to me with them later. Now, Jazz, do you have anything to report?"

Jazz shrugged. "Do ya have any questions?"

"Well you could start by giving us some numbers," Prowl said. "Recruitment estimates, resources. We have a little of that from your previous reports, but it would be good to get some more details."

Jazz nodded, and launched into a casual analysis of the Decepticon forces. He said a few things that Orion could tell might suggest the Decepticons were currently weak to an attack.

He was certain Prowl would bring that up to him later, but he resolved not to change his mind. They would _not_ attack first.

When Jazz was finished, Orion thanked him, and he sat back in his seat, arms crossed.

"All right," Orion said. "Elita, do you have anything to report."

"Actually, yes," Elita said quietly. "And… it's not really good news."

The room fell quiet.

"So," she said. "It seems Megatron's up to new tricks. He's started spreading all kinds of rumors about us, especially about Optimus." She met Orion's optics, and he could tell something was wrong.

"What kind of rumors?" Mainspring asked.

"What the pit can you say about Optimus?" Ironhide demanded. "I doubt he's done anything underhanded in his entire life."

"Oh, Megatron's thought of things," Elita said. "Some are outright lies, but others have half truths in them. For example, Alpha Trion, who was on the Council, was his mentor. Megatron's using that to say that Orion's in cahoots with the Council. Also, how improbable it is that they voted unanimously to make him Prime when the Council are almost never unanimous. The fact that we actually _have_ been trying to work with the Council doesn't help. And that's just the beginning. There are all sorts of terrible things being said about Orion…sorry, Optimus, by Megatron."

Silence fell around the table. Orion remembered those seekers. They had suggested kidnapping him and taking him to Megatron—maybe they'd taken their ideas to him instead.

"Is it affecting recruitment?" Prowl asked.

Elita looked to Chromia

"We can't tell," Chromia crossed her arms. "Recruitment has slowed down, but that might not be related. If it's really bad, though, it might affect recruitment in the future."

"Are we doing anything to assure mecha the rumors are false?" Mainspring asked.

"We're trying to counter them with the truth, yes," Elita said. "But it's hard not to make it sound like we're making up excuses."

"You know," Chromia said. "Why don't we just do it back to him?"

"No," Orion said. "Keep trying to spread the truth. I may have made mistakes in my life but this isn't—and should never be—about me. I'm sure nothing false will be a permanent problem."

"I don't know about that," Elita looked worried. "If mecha think you're siding with the Council, then they're going to join the Decepticons, and once they've done that, they'll be told even more lies about the Autobots, and you."

"So we should put some propaganda about Megatron out there," Chromia said again. "We don't have to lie. He's a fragging psychopath—it wouldn't be hard to find some dirt on him."

"I do not feel comfortable with that," Optimus said.

"Oh, come on," Chromia said. "We all know he's crazy. Why not tell the world that?"

"What can we say, though?" Prowl asked. "That he's a gladiator who offlined other mecha in the pits? That he overthrew Kaon? That he wants to use violence to solve the world's problems? Everyone already knows all of those things."

"So what do you suggest then, if you're such a genius?" Chromia snapped.

"I don't know." Prowl said coldly. "But countering rumors with more rumors will spread confusion."

"So what do we do?" Elita asked. "Any other ideas?"

They all looked to Orion.

"Perhaps I should get out more," he said. "I can do more interviews, talk to more mecha. We have to _show_ them who we are, not just tell them. Will you work on setting some things up for me—opportunities for me to speak to mecha?"

Elita nodded. "I can. Are you sure you'll have time?"

"I will make time."

It probably meant he wouldn't be getting enough recharge. Then again, hadn't Yoketron said a lack of recharge was part of the job description for army commanders? He should get used to it.

"Is there anything else, Elita?" Orion asked.

"Just the stats report," Elita said. "Which is in everyone's agenda. Please look it over. Ask me if you have questions."

"Thank you," Orion said. "Mainspring, do you have anything to report?"

"Yes," Mainspring said. "Now that Jazz is back, we don't have anyone in Kaon. This means that next time Megatron attacks, it's likely we will have little to no warning."

"It's not possible to get someone else there?" Ironhide said. "Or send Jazz back?"

"So long as Megatron has a telepath working for him, it will be very dangerous to send _anyone_ to Kaon," Mainspring said.

"Random side note," Jazz said. "Back before the split, when we were all one big happy club… I could swear I overheard someone saying something about another telepath. Is there one somewhere?"

Orion blinked. "I… yes. But he's a youngling, and I don't know where he is. I believe Soundwave helped him go into hiding."

"Wait," Chromia said. "There's another telepath? _How?_ "

"There's _what?"_ Red Alert demanded. " _Where?_ Why didn't I know about this? That's an _enormous_ security threat! And you said _Soundwave_ knows where he is?"

"He is not a threat," Orion said. "And it was important to keep his existence secret in order to protect him."

"Hmm," Jazz said. "But if Soundwave's the one who hid him, then Red's right, and the 'Cons know where he is… of course, I never heard ol' visor-face mention him."

"Soundwave was very protective of the mechling," Ratchet said. "I doubt he'd give Megatron Blaster's location."

"Do _you_ know where he is?" Jazz asked.

Ratchet looked uncomfortable.

"Look," Jazz said. "I don't care if Soundwave likes him, as soon as Megatron finds out he exists and that Soundwave can find him, he'll be in danger. Soundwave—"

"No," Ratchet growled. "You don't know Soundwave. He would never let _anyone—_ "

"But if he believes what Megatron is doing is right, he might show up and try ta talk the mechling inta joining the Decepticons," Jazz said. "We can't let that happen. If there's another telepath, we need him on our side."

"He's a youngling!" Ratchet said again. "We can't recruit a youngling!"

"I didn't say we should recruit him," Jazz said. "Not yet, at least, not until he's an adult. But we gotta make sure the Decepticons don't recruit him, cuz I don't think Megatron would care how old he is."

"Ratchet's right," Orion said. "We can't recruit him. But I do think it would be good to offer our protection. Ratchet, do you know where Blaster is?"

Ratchet sighed. "Yes, I do."

"Will you go and talk to him then, and whoever his caretakers are? If you can, bring them back here so I can talk to them personally."

Ratchet nodded. "I can't make any promises. I don't think that youngling likes me very much."

"Thank you for being willing to go and speak with them," Orion said. "Hopefully if they understand that Blaster is in danger, they'll be willing to let us help."

There was nodding around the table, but Orion almost wished the subject hadn't come up. He agreed with Ratchet that Soundwave would probably protect Blaster, unless Megatron found out about him from another source.

And now a whole room full of mecha knew about him.

"In regard to this subject," Orion said. "I want you all be aware that the knowledge of this mechling's existence should be kept confidential. The more mecha there are who know, the more likely it is that Megatron will find out about him. I trust all of you in this room, but please don't share this with anyone else."

He looked around, meeting everyone's optics.

"Thank you," he said. "Prowl, do you have anything to report?"

The meeting continued. Jazz occasionally chimed in with thoughts or ideas, and Orion realized they had missed his unique perspective and problem solving skills. In his own way, he was almost as brilliant as Prowl.

When the meeting was over, Orion waited for everyone else to file out of the room.

He only had a few joors before he would need to attempt the third trial. Yoketron had refused to tell him what it was, and so he was nervous.

"You coming?" Ironhide said, and Orion looked up from the table. He had hoped to spend a breem alone in the meeting room to think.

"I… yes."

He could go to his office instead. He would take a few breems to think, and maybe meditate before checking the eternally growing to-do list Prowl kept up-to-date for him.

He really should get someone else to do that. Prowl was already busy with his own work.

Ironhide dragged him to the main room to get some energon, then let him go. He subspaced the cube and made his way to his office.

Much to his surprise, he found it occupied.

The door slid closed behind him. Elita was sitting in the chair across from his desk with her back to him. Even without the bond, he knew her well enough to see she was upset about something. He tried to walk quietly around the desk and then sat down, facing her.

She wouldn't look at him.

He waited for her to speak, not sure how to ask what was wrong.

"Orion," she said at length. "I… I just have a question… before…"

She trailed off and was quiet so long Orion felt compelled to break the silence. "What is it?"

"Don't," Elita still wouldn't look at him. "Don't talk. Just let me ask, all right?'

He searched her faceplate. What was going on? She had been quiet at the meeting, but she hadn't seemed _that_ upset. Or maybe he just hadn't noticed.

"Orion, did you know?"

Orion blinked. "Did I know…"

"Stop," Elita said. "Did you know you were going to be the Prime? Did he… did Alpha Trion ever tell you?"

Orion stared at her.

"He told other mecha," she said, still studying her hands. "He told a lot of other mecha, mostly in secret. Perceptor knew. I asked him. He knew. Other mecha knew. Didn't he ever tell you?"

"No." Orion said, wondering where this was going.

"Couldn't you have guessed, though? You're not stupid."

"I didn't know." Orion said, wondering why this was upsetting her so much.

"Did you meet with him? The orn before going before the Council, did you meet with Alpha Trion?"

"What?"

"Did you?"

"No. I hadn't seen him for decaorns."

"I couldn't remember. It seemed like you disappeared for a while, and I know Alpha Trion came to Mirage's tower… but that was after, wasn't it?"

"Why is this so important?"

Finally, she looked up at him, with a shocked, hurt expression on her faceplate.

What?

Confused, he continued speaking. "I promise I didn't know I was going to be appointed as the Prime. I had every intention of following the plan to demand they appoint Megatronus to the position. Alpha Trion never mentioned it to me, nor did Perceptor or anyone else."

Elita sighed, then shuttered her optics. "All right. I'm sorry, it was a silly question. I already knew you didn't know, I just… never mind."

Suddenly, he understood.

If he had known he would become a Prime, then he would have known their bond would break. It was common knowledge that Primes couldn't have bonds.

He would have known how badly he was going to hurt her. He would have chosen to hurt her.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Elita got up.

Orion stood as well. "Wait."

She started for the door, but he followed her and caught her arm. "Elita, you don't think I would…"

"I said it was a silly question."

"I would never… Ellie, I _couldn't_ have… I didn't know. Please believe me. If I'd known… if they'd let me choose, I would have refused. I didn't want this, and I didn't know it was going to happen."

"But you didn't," she said quietly.

"What?"

She looked at him again, this time with barely-concealed accusation in her optics. "You didn't refuse. When they appointed you as a Prime, you had a choice, didn't you?"

It felt like someone had poured coolant in his spark chamber.

He let go of her arm.

Her optics widened. "Oh, Primus…" she said, covering her mouth. "I'm sorry."

Orion looked down.

She stepped toward him and reached out, but stopped. "Orion?"

He couldn't say anything.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…"

"No," Orion managed to whisper. "Don't apologize. You're right."

She backed away, and another long silence stretched between them.

"I..." Elita said. "I should finish compiling a list of the rumors and send it to you so you can look over them and be prepared to answer questions about them."

"Thank you," Orion said.

"I'm sorry I questioned you. And I didn't mean to accuse you of..."

"It's all right," Orion said.

"I'll see you later." She left, and Orion walked around and sat at his desk again.

He stared down at the smooth surface for a few astroseconds.

Alpha Trion hadn't mentioned anything about Orion becoming a Prime, though now that he thought back, the old mech had probably been trying to prepare him.

If Alpha Trion had told him outright, he would have refused the responsibility. That orn, though, standing before the Council, the words had just come out. He had agreed to it because, for an instant, it had felt right. It had felt like it was meant to happen. But maybe he could have said no. Maybe he _should_ have said no. Did a part of him really _want_ the power?

It wasn't worth it. Someone else would have been better at this. Someone smarter or stronger. A better leader. Someone who didn't doubt himself so much. Someone who knew he had accepted the position for the right reasons, and not on a whim.

But he had agreed, and he couldn't change that now and he didn't have time to sit and wallow. He looked hopelessly at all of the notes and datapads strewn across his desk and was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. He fought it off—it was still early in the orn. He had no business feeling so tired.

And he needed to get things done before he went to meet with Yoketron.

* * *

Keepsake looked at Blaster, silently asking him whether it was all right to open the door. You never knew, these orns. Blaster hesitated, then nodded. Cam came in as Keepsake headed for the doorway. He stood and watched, and Keepsake could feel his worry through their bond.

She opened the door.

Ratchet.

"Oh!" she said. "Come in! Come in!"

The young mech stepped in and the door shut behind him. He stiffened a little as Keepsake embraced him.

She pulled him into the front hallway and then reached out to shut the door behind him.

"Mechling," Cam smiled. "It's been too long. How are you?"

"No better than anymech else these orns," Ratchet stepped back.

"Come," Keepsake said, leading them into the front room, where Blaster was standing, looking concerned. "Sit down."

Ratchet sat on the bench, and then looked at Blaster. "How are you?"

"Doing okay," Blaster said, lowering himself gingerly down to sit on the floor. "What's going on?" He still seemed tense. Was something wrong? They could trust Ratchet, couldn't they?

"Have you been in contact with Soundwave at all recently?" Ratchet asked.

"No," Cam said. "Is he all right?"

"I assume so," Ratchet scowled. "As far as I know he's online, but he must be out of his fragging processor."

"Is it true he joined the Decepticons?" Keepsake asked.

Ratchet nodded.

Keepsake's spark sank, and Cam looked down. She knew he was as confused as she felt. From all reports, Megatron had been the cause of a lot of death and destruction… or so they'd thought. Now, no one knew anything. She didn't want to believe Soundwave had sided with that gladiator, or that he would participate in so much violence...

"Why?" Blaster asked.

"I have no idea," Ratchet said.

"He has to have some reason," Cam said.

"Or he's gone insane," Ratchet repeated. "In any case, I'm here because we just realized that you aren't safe, especially him," he nodded at Blaster. "Before too long, the Decepticons will find out about him and come kidnap him. They'll want him on their side."

Cam shook his helm.

"No," Keepsake said. "You know Soundwave wouldn't let that happen."

"Maybe not now," Ratchet said. "But mecha change. And if Megatron finds out about Blaster at all, he'll come looking."

"So," Blaster said quietly. "You came to recruit me first."

Cam looked at Ratchet sharply, and Keepsake could feel his alarm over their bond.

Ratchet looked down. The young medic seemed old, suddenly, and tired.

"Is that true?" Cam asked. "Did you come here to try and rope us into joining the Autobots?"

"I'm sure that if you prefer," Ratchet said. "They'll find somewhere for you to hide. They'll relocate you somewhere safe, and you won't have to worry. However, we could use your help, Blaster, once you're old enough."

Blaster crossed his arms nervously.

"Right," Cam said, feeling protective now, almost angry. "Relocate us. Hide us. That doesn't sound suspicious at all. What's to keep you from locking us up somewhere? Your Prime's already shown he doesn't care about laws. Is this some kind of trick?"

Ratchet stiffened.

"Cam," Keepsake said.

"I am certain," Ratchet said. "That this is not a trick. Orion would never do something like that."

"I think…" Blaster said quietly. They all turned and looked at him. Steeljaw came up next to him and sat, watching Ratchet with a guarded expression.

"I think I want to help," Blaster said. "If it really is… if the Autobots really do need me. But I just can't believe Soundwave would… I don't want to be on the opposite side from him."

"Believe me, _none_ of us do," Ratchet said. "And none of us understand why either. Look, I can't explain things as well. Come talk to Orion. He understands that the most important thing is to keep you safe. That's why I'm here—we're worried about you. That'll be foremost in his processor as well. You don't want to wait for the Decepticons to come. They won't be so accommodating."

"I'm not entirely sure how wise it is for us to let either side of this conflict know where we are," Cam said.

"Cam." Keepsake said again.

This was Ratchet. Even if Cam disagreed with him, that was no reason to get so defensive.

"Soundwave was like a creation to us," Cam said. "In a way, so were you. But now you're both grown and you've made your own decisions. It takes two sides to fight. How can you be certain there's a right or wrong and that you aren't wrong? Or that you aren't _both_ wrong?"

"The only thing the Autobots have done is help refugees escape from…"

"Yet," Cam said. "The only thing yet. But if your leader is so big on solving this without violence, why is he raising an army? And why did he attack the groundbridge stations if he wants to keep the peace?"

"Well, as far as the army's concerned, the Council insisted…"

"So he _is_ working with the Council?"

"He's not! I mean, he's trying, but who can really work with those…"

"Why?" Cam insisted. "Why is he working with them if he was supposedly trying to fight against their corruption?"

Ratchet glared at him. "You've been listening to the rumors, haven't you?"

"I don't need rumors," Cam said. "There are cold hard facts to consider, and those facts raise some very important questions, Ratchet. Did you know he met secretly with Alpha Trion, who is a mech on the Council, just the orn before he was voted as Prime? And can you possibly believe that the Council would ever 'elect' someone who they couldn't control?"

"What?" Ratchet sputtered. "I… look, I've known Orion for vorns. He's a good mech!"

"Have you known him longer than you've known Soundwave?" Cam asked. "Soundwave's the one who can read processors. And you said it yourself—mecha can change. Are you really sure you're following the mech you think you are?"

Ratchet narrowed his optics. "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Stop!" Blaster said.

"But you know what?" Ratchet got to his pedes. "Believe the lies if you like! Searchlight would have seen the truth."

"Get out!" Cam said.

"Fine!" Ratchet stormed out of the room, down the hall. Keepsake watched him, wishing she could call out to him.

She heard the door shut behind him, then looked back at Cam, sending him a slightly reproachful feeling over their bond.

Cam sighed and sat down on the bench, looking and feeling defeated. "I'm sorry," he said.

"You're apologizing to me?" Keepsake came over and sat next to him.

Cam shook his helm. "He's being misled," he muttered. "Did you hear how defensive he got?"

Keepsake smiled and put her hand on top of his. "You didn't do much better."

"I know. But at least I _had_ an argument. He didn't even have anything to defend that mech with." He sighed. "Of course, I doubt that Megatron's right either. Or the Council. Or anyone. I don't know what to do."

Keepsake looked down.

"We can't stay here, can we?" Blaster asked.

"No," Cam said. "We can't."

The reality of that thought hit Keepsake. They'd lived in this apartment for nearly thirty vorns. They'd raised their only creation in this apartment. There were dents in the walls from Searchlight playing as a sparkling.

She didn't want to _think_ about leaving.

"Where will we go?" Blaster asked.

Cam looked down. He didn't seem to have an answer.

Keepsake took in a deep vent, trying to think positively. There was no point in moping, especially if her mechling was in danger. "It'll work out," she said. "Somehow or other. We'll find somewhere to wait out this war, where we won't be found, and everything will work out for the best." The words sounded hollow, even to her.


	22. The Third Trial

The crystal tile wobbled in the atmosphere, bobbing uncertainly as if it couldn't quite decide whether or not it should be floating.

"Very good," Yoketron said quietly. "Can you lower it back to the ground?"

The crystal tile dropped sharply and broke in half when it hit the floor.

Prowl huffed in frustration, doorwings twitching.

Yoketron watched him thoughtfully.

"Sorry," Prowl said. "You know, I think part of it is that I still can't believe this is possible in the first place. And I doubt I'll ever really get the hang of it."

Yoketron had _never_ seen anyone progress this quickly. And he'd been teaching for a very long time. "I suggest you try to be more patient with yourself," he said. "You will master the technique eventually if you continue to practice."

Prowl looked skeptical.

"Enough of that for the orn, though," Yoketron said. "The Prime will be here soon."

Prowl nodded. "He may be a breem or two late. He has a lot to do—have you heard Megatron's been spreading rumors about him?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "It's unfortunate, but I wouldn't be too concerned about it."

"But if it turns everyone against us, it's going to make it very difficult to win this war."

"The wise will see through the rumors."

"The wise don't tend to join armies."

Yoketron shook his helm. "But they do tend to make excellent allies if they realize it's necessary to fight. You'll just have to be careful not to let the other side get too much of an advantage before it's too late."

"Would you mind telling that to Orion?"

Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "I see you're still upset that he doesn't want to attack Megatron. I've told you his stubborn refusal to participate in unnecessary violence is what makes him a good Prime."

"But not a good army commander."

"I think you underestimate him. If it is necessary, or if it is the right decision, Optimus _will_ attack the Decepticons. But he will think very carefully about it, and weigh it in his processor and his spark. Let him make that call. Your task is to support him in his decision, and ensure the Autobots are successful."

"But that will make things so much more difficult. Primus… I can't make a single mistake," Prowl said.

"Oh, you'll make plenty of mistakes. We all do. And the way things are going…" Yoketron sighed. "This war might be a lot worse than anyone thinks. However, I am confident in your abilities, and those of the Prime." He had seen wars before. He had known many commanders as well. The Autobots were unique, though. They had more raw, inexperienced talent than he'd seen in any organization. He wasn't sure if it would be enough though.

They were going to need everything they had to oppose the mech who had once been Searchlight.

The sides were evenly matched.

That was what frightened him.

That was why he needed to train Prowl as well. Orion could not worry about anything but stopping Megatron. Yoketron had a different task for this mech, one with equal difficulty.

"Master Yoketron?"

"Hmm?"

"Orion was gone for a very long time last orn."

"Yes. And?"

"We need him on base. I know what you're doing is very important, but… not only is it time consuming, it's also wearing him out."

Master Yoketron nodded slightly. "I know," he said. "If I had my wish, I would give him a break, but I can't. It's about to get worse too. Just do everything you can to help him. Make sure he has enough time to recharge."

Prowl nodded. "I can try… but there are things he has to do that I'm not good at."

"I understand," Yoketron said. "I will try not to keep him so long in the future."

Prowl nodded.

"He should be here in a breem or so. Until then, we will meditate."

Prowl nodded, and sat on the ground, frowning at the broken crystal tile.

"I can buy a replacement," Yoketron said.

"It's not that," Prowl replied.

Yoketron smiled knowingly. "Let us meditate for now, and we'll deal with it afterward."

One of the caveats of using processor over matter was that it came with a strong desire to leave everything the way you had found it.

Yoketron sat across from Prowl and shuttered his optics. After a few astroseconds, he heard a quiet scraping sound, which he could infer was Prowl lifting the broken crystal tile from the ground, probably using processor over matter. He was displeased that the mech had disobeyed him, but he decided to wait until the tile fell again. But it didn't fall. There was another scraping sound, then quiet.

Then there was the distant whoosh of a door opening, followed by Orion's pedesteps as he came down the hall toward the crystal garden.

Well, Prowl had been wrong about the Prime coming late. He was actually a few breems early.

Yoketron un-shuttered his optics and stood. He spared a glance at the place where the tile was supposed to go. It was there, and the only evidence that it was broken was a small, white fracture line. Yoketron looked at Prowl who tipped his helm slightly and quirked a bit of an apologetic smile.

"Welcome, Orion," Master Yoketron turned his attention to his newly arrived pupil.

"Thank you, Master Yoketron." Orion bowed.

They got started. After a few basic exercises, Yoketron had them pair up and fight each other. They were both progressing rapidly despite the limited amount of time they had to practice. Prowl, who had had some basic training as a younger mech, was still ahead of Orion, and probably would be for the foreseeable future. Orion had been raised and programmed to do desk work, and was not a natural fighter. Furthermore, he was still timid and while his moves were controlled and accurate, there was no power behind them. He didn't want to hurt anyone.

Hopefully, receiving the Matrix of Leadership would help with that. Or maybe a couple of battle experiences. It was easier to stop caring if you injured your opponent when they were actually trying to offline you.

This orn, Orion seemed less focused than usual, and he got even worse as time went on and Prowl overpowered him again and again. After about ten breems, Yoketron called a halt.

Prowl helped Orion to his pedes.

"Orion."

He wouldn't meet Yoketron's optics.

"You are doing very poorly this orn."

"I apologize," he said quietly. There was some indiscernible emotion in his voice, under the surface.

"Is there something troubling you?"

Silence fell for a few astroseconds. "Nothing you can help with."

Yoketron looked at Prowl, then back at Orion. Something was very clearly bothering the young Prime, and practicing combat might not be productive this orn.

"Prowl, you're free to go."

The Praxian hesitated.

"Go ahead," Yoketron insisted.

Prowl bowed. "Thank you, Master Yoketron."

"You are very welcome. I will see you next orn."

"Yes, Master Yoketron." Prowl said. Then he left. The door closed behind him.

"Sit," Yoketron commanded.

Orion sat, and Yoketron sat across from him. "Now what is it you're upset about? I've heard of the rumors Megatron is spreading. Does that have something to do with your mood this orn?"

"It isn't important," Orion said. "I don't know. I can work through it."

"Your emotional health _is_ important," Yoketron said. "It affects everything else that you do. Please, Orion, if it isn't too personal, I'd like you to tell me what's bothering you. I may not be able to fix anything, but I've been around for a very long time, and I do have some experiences I can draw upon. Perhaps I'll be able to advise you."

The Prime sighed. Then he started talking. Yoketron forced himself not to interrupt as he listened to the Prime's troubles. He heard the story of a mech stretched beyond his abilities, with a broken spark and no one to confide in. Orion spoke about his sparkmate, how much being separated from her hurt, and how he didn't know whether she trusted him anymore. He also talked about Megatron's betrayal, and Alpha Trion's seeming indifference. He talked about how everyone was trying to convince him to attack the Decepticons, and how Orion wasn't sure what to do. He talked about how he had a hard time recharging because he always dreamed about the maze from the first trial.

As Orion talked, Yoketron couldn't help thinking about how Primus must have known from the beginning—he must have chosen Yoketron to train this mech very intentionally. But even though Yoketron could understand to some extent what Orion was going through, he wasn't sure what he should do about it, or how he could help.

He had one idea… but he wasn't sure if it would work. If it didn't, it could make things worse. And if it did work, Alpha Trion would _not_ be happy with him.

"So I really don't think there's anything you can do," Orion said. "Or anything _anyone_ can do. I'll just have to keep going." He took in a deep vent and shuttered his optics. "But thank you for listening. That felt good."

"Thank you for trusting me," Yoketron said.

"I feel ready now, if you want to practice or if you want me to attempt the next trial."

Yoketron hesitated. "We can do a little practicing first."

Orion looked concerned. "What… _is_ the next trial?"

"Focus," Yoketron said. "We'll get there. First, we need to catch up on what you would have learned if I hadn't sent Prowl away. You have much to improve on before I trust you out on a battlefield…"

The practice went fairly well after that. Yoketron could tell that his student was very tired, though. Someone ought to be making sure he got enough recharge.

He didn't particularly want to let Orion attempt the next trial this orn, but he knew his student would insist, and also that Alpha Trion would insist, and also that it needed to be done.

So, after a reasonable amount of time, Yoketron called a halt and they sat across from each other in the courtyard.

"I know a little bit more about this next trial," Yoketron said. "Though I'm not actually sure what the point is, or how you're supposed to succeed at it."

"Whose trial is it?" Orion asked.

"Alpha Trion's," Yoketron said. "Come to think of it, that's… ironic, since he's an archivist."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

Yoketron hesitated.

"What?"

"I'm not sure what you do to pass the trial," he said. "And I don't think it would make much of a difference whether I explain it beforehand."

"All right." Orion nodded, shuttering his optics. "I'm ready."

Yoketron walked around behind him and inserted the data stick into the back of his helm.

Orion's helm drooped, and he went still.

Yoketron walked around to sit across from him, and waited.

* * *

Orion tried to un-shutter his optics, but there was only blackness. A warning flashed across his processor.

[Memory Erase initiated. Beginning in five... Four...]

Orion tried to cancel the procedure, but it didn't work. He tried harder and was rewarded with a jarring spike of pain in his processor.

[one]

Memory files were pulled up, from his earliest sparklinghood. He gasped and tried to stop them, but felt the stinging sensation again, and they disappeared. He was losing his life—everything. He panicked and desperately tried to hold onto his memory files. The deletion process slowed, but didn't stop, and the pain built up stronger and stronger until Orion had to let go. He was losing youngling memories now. He tried again and again to slow the process, but he couldn't do it. All he could do was fight desperately as his memories depleted. Until he couldn't remember his childhood friends, until he couldn't remember his creators, until he couldn't remember getting into the Academy, or graduating, or meeting Alpha Trion, or when he got his job at the archives.

He clung desperately to his last few vorns of memories, but even those were slowly pried away from him, and then he was nothing.

* * *

After about fifteen breems, Orion's optics un-shuttered and he gasped and sat up straight. Yoketron, sitting across from him, watched him carefully as he shuttered his optics again, venting hard.

He let Orion have a breem to recover. "Well?" he asked.

"Primus…" Orion said. "Is that really what a memory wipe feels like?"

Yoketron frowned. "I doubt anymech really knows, since you don't normally remember afterward. Did you receive any instructions for passing the trial?"

"No," Orion said. "There was nothing. Just…"

"Hmm…" Yoketron said.

"I'm fairly certain I didn't pass it, though." Orion said quietly, shuttering his optics. Yoketron was silent. That would have to be even worse than the maze in some ways.

Eventually, the Prime spoke. "Again."

Yoketron stood. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," Orion said through gritted denta.

"Very well." Yoketron came around behind him. This time, Orion flinched as the data stick slipped into his helm. And then he went limp.

Yoketron walked to sit in front of him again. A full memory wipe should only take five or six breems for a mech of Orion's age. That must not be all there was to the trial, somehow.

He tried to meditate, but he was too worried. The memory wipe had obviously and understandably been a traumatizing experience. Maybe he shouldn't have let Orion try again this orn. Yoketron would have to be careful about not letting the mech push himself too far on this one.

It might be too late for that already. This was definitely not going to help Orion's mental state.

Yoketron scowled, trying and failing to forgive Alpha Trion for all of his callousness. That mech made Yoketron very angry sometimes. There was something to be said for secrecy, and something to be said for practicality. But when the old Prime wanted to, he could be downright cold and unhelpful.

And there was nothing good to be said for either of those characteristics.

Time continued on. Yoketron started to get nervous. It had been more than half a joor. Had something gone wrong?

He waited, checking his internal timepiece every few breems, until nearly a joor had gone by.

Suddenly, Orion's optics flew open and he cried out. Yoketron scrambled to his pedes as his student leaned forward, putting his hands to his helm. His vents hissed as they cycled air, and his engine whined. He was shaking.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Yoketron asked.

Orion nodded mutely.

Yoketron knelt and put a hand on his student's shoulder, fighting the sinking feeling in his tanks and trying to make a quick decision. This wasn't supposed to happen—nothing in the trials was supposed to physically affect them in real life.

Orion moaned, leaning forward farther, clutching his helm.

There could be something wrong with him. He should probably go see a medic. It might even be good for Yoketron to call a medic here. However, Yoketron was supposed to keep these trials a secret, and he didn't think that Orion's friends would be very happy when they found out what was happening to their leader during training. He knew how that felt, and while they probably deserved to know...

"Can you talk?" Yoketron asked after a few astroseconds.

"Yeah," Orion gasped. "Last time…. Last time it stopped… hurting… when I came out of it…"

"Oh, mechling, I'm so sorry."

Orion took in a deep, shaky vent, and put his hands down.

"I think we'd better call it an orn," Yoketron said.

Orion nodded.

"Should I comm. a medic?"

"I'm ok," Orion said. "Just give me a few breems."

Yoketron walked around and sat in front of his student again, waiting anxiously. Eventually, Orion seemed to relax a little, and he sat up. Yoketron could still see the pain in his optics.

"What happened?"

Orion took in a deep vent. "The first time… I noticed that if I tried, I could slow down the memory wipe. It hurt, but… I thought maybe if I tried hard enough I could stop it."

Yoketron shook his helm.

"I told myself it would be fine, because it would stop hurting once the trial was over…"

By the allspark…

"…but I still failed. I can't do that again…"

"I won't ask you to," Yoketron said. "Also, knowing Alpha Trion, I don't think the point of the trial would be to fight harder."

Orion grimaced. "You're right. I didn't think about that."

"You should see a medic if your helm hurts," Yoketron said. "This is not supposed to damage your processor."

Orion nodded.

"In fact, I want you to stop in to see Ratchet as soon as you get back to the tower. However… It might be good to keep the trials a secret."

"I understand."

"Not that I'm going to let you attempt that one again for a while."

"Ok," Orion said.

"Don't get up yet," Yoketron said. "Just rest for a few breems."

"All right," Orion shuttered his optics and put his helm back in his hands.

Too fast. They were moving too fast.

As much as Alpha Trion insisted Orion was strong enough for this, Yoketron could see the signs. The mechling was stretching himself to far, pushing himself too hard. And in a lot of ways, everything was going wrong for him.

Something needed to slow down or go right, before it was too late.

* * *

Ironhide skimmed through the eternally long list on the datapad, scowling.

This was ridiculous.

This was absolutely ridiculous.

He commed Prowl, who answered promptly.

" _Commander Ironhide. Can I help you?"_

"Hey," Ironhide said. "So I got your memo and everything… but look, mech, we've already put everyone in units, and I don't want to deal with trying to reorganize the entire army."

" _But you have to,"_ Prowl said. _"The organization I've sent you is extremely important, and much better than your randomized grouping of—"_

"It's not randomized," Ironhide said.

Kup glanced over at him, one optic raised.

" _Well, it might as well be. Put the soldiers in the groups I've told you to put them in."_

"You can't order me around. What exactly makes you think you have a right to tell me who goes in what unit? This is not your department, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to do my job."

" _Well, I can do it better than you can."_

"Excuse me?"

" _And technically, I_ do _outrank you. Make the changes to your troop organization that I've asked you to, or the next time Megatron attacks somewhere, we won't be able to stop him."_

"Are you serious?"

" _Have you ever heard me make a joke?"_

"You… look, maybe you do outrank me, but you have no right to tell me how to run my department, and don't you dare claim you know my soldiers better than I do."

" _I have warned you,"_ Prowl said. _"But I can tell this conversation is going nowhere, so if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."_

Prowl cut the comm.

Ironhide tilted his helm back with a heavy sigh. "Arrogant glitch."

"Who?" Kup asked.

"That Praxian."

"Prowl?"

Ironhide nodded, looking out the window at the soldiers in the courtyard outside. "He wants us to completely reorganize everything, and he's got lists of mecha to put in different units, but… here look." He tossed the datapad over to the old mech, who caught it and looked it over for a few astroseconds.

"It's unreasonable," Ironhide said.

"Well," Kup said. "I've lived through a couple wars. Always managed to get sucked in somehow."

"I know," Ironhide said, hoping the old mech wasn't about to launch into an unrelated tall tale of some sort.

"And one of the few things I think I actually learned is that you always have to listen to the tacticians. Cuz if they're right, then you don't wanna mess up their plans, and if they're wrong, then you're fragged no matter what you do. Way I see it, you're lucky he's taking an interest in optimizing the troop organization. I don't know why you're so upset about it."

"It will take an entire orn away from training to make all those changes."

"Not if you do it right," Kup said.

"Besides, there's no guarantee it will actually make a difference. Prowl thinks he's a lot smarter than he actually is."

"Well, I'm not in charge," Kup said, getting up from his chair. "And I won't tell you how to run your army, Sir."

He handed back the datapad on his way out the door. Ironhide watched the old mech leave, and then looked back down at the instructions Prowl had sent him.

Well…

He supposed if Kup thought it was a good idea… it was still ridiculous, though. Ironhide might have to talk to Orion about it. Prowl sometimes listened to Orion.

He was still trying to come up with an efficient way to make the changes outlined in the memo when his friend Padlock—who had recently quit the Elite Guard to help with training full-time—came in, looking almost angry.

"Hey, mech," Ironhide said. "Are you on break? I thought—"

"I need to talk to you for a few breems," Padlock said. "I just got a comm. from Captain Bulwark."

Ironhide frowned. "About what?"

"Ultra Magnus," Padlock said. "The Guard have been checking on him periodically. He was in long-term stasis, so they couldn't talk to him, but they'd send someone regularly to the prison he was at and check to make sure he was still online and everything."

Ironhide set his datapad down on the desk. "That's a lot of past tense words."

"Yeah," Padlock said. "They sent someone to check this on-cycle, and he's gone."

Ironhide's spark sank. "Gone as in dead?"

"Gone as in disappeared," Padlock said. "He could be dead, he could have been moved somewhere else. They could have wiped his memories and sent him to some mine or factory somewhere. Bulwark confronted the Council about it, but they wouldn't tell him anything, so a bunch of the mecha loyal to Ultra Magnus got together and made a decision. They want to ditch the Council and join the Autobots."

Ironhide looked down.

"But they're willing to stay there for a while at least, if Optimus wants them to spy on the Council for him."

"Okay," Ironhide said.

"So you should talk to Optimus about it, and ask him what he wants them to do. Let him know about Captain Magnus too."

Ironhide nodded, feeling sick.

He knew he should have said something to Orion when they'd given Ultra Magnus back to the Council. He had hoped—since the Council had opted to imprison him instead of offline him—that he would be all right.

"Thanks," Padlock said. "I should get back out there."

He left and Ironhide got up from his chair. He had some training to oversee in a few breems. And after that, he would need to go back to the tower.

Maybe he could put that off for a few more joors. He didn't look forward to sharing the bad news about Ultra Magnus with Orion, even if it came with the news that they had more mecha from the Elite Guard on their side now.

* * *

Orion found Ratchet in his office, finishing Jazz's leg and muttering to himself.

"Ratchet?"

The medic jumped, but didn't turn around. "Don't sneak up on me like that, Orion. What do you want?"

Not in a good mood, then. Orion sighed—maybe he should take a nap and come back later. He didn't want to deal with a cranky Ratchet when his helm hurt so much.

"By the way," Ratchet said. "Don't ever send me to try and recruit anyone ever again. I can't fragging do it."

Orion blinked. What was he talking about?

Oh, right. Blaster. He'd been so busy he had completely forgotten to ask Ratchet how that had gone.

Ratchet set the leg down on the table a little harder than strictly necessary and turned around. "They refused to come. Blaster's caretakers have been listening to those rumors about you, and they believe them. I don't know if they plan to join the Decepticons or just go into hiding, or what, but there's no way they'll be helping us, or even letting us protect them."

"You think they would join the Decepticons?" Orion asked.

"Well… more likely, they're going to go into hiding. They might have left already, for all I know. We'll probably never see them again."

Orion shuttered his optics. "That may be for the better, so long as they can hide from the Decepticons."

"I can't believe it," Ratchet said. "Cam wouldn't listen to me at all. Those stupid rumors…"

"Cam?" Orion said. "Isn't that…"

"Soundwave took the mechling to live with Searchlight's creators," Ratchet said. "Yes. And I didn't think they were so… frag it, I _know_ you." he looked at Orion. "I've seen you feed all those homeless sparklings, seen you give up everything. I _can't believe_ there are mecha out there who think you're evil and selfish…"

"It's all right, Ratchet," Orion said.

"I hate lies, especially when good mecha believe them."

Orion sighed. "I'm upset about it as well." It made him sad. "And it doesn't seem like Megatronus to do this."

"Megatron," Ratchet corrected.

"He is still Megatronus, even if he has changed his designation."

Ratchet shook his helm.

"Thank you, Ratchet."

"For what?"

"For going to speak with Blaster and his caretakers. I'm sure if I'd sent someone else, they would have been even less willing to come." Orion stepped further into the room and sat down. He really did need some recharge or something. His helm still felt like it was splitting open.

Ratchet snorted. "Right. Too bad we don't have Breeze on our side. Or Soundwave."

Ratchet didn't talk about Soundwave very often. Orion knew it was still a sore subject.

"I don't get it," Ratchet continued. "Do you know Soundwave came to me and tried to convince me to join Megatron? Back when you were appointed as a Prime."

Orion hadn't known that. He met Ratchet's optics. "Why did you stay?"

"Because I knew better," Ratchet said quietly. "A long time ago, I had a friend who was willing to walk away from a fight, making himself look like a coward. It was the bravest thing I've ever seen anymech do. He risked losing every friend he had in the world, but he did it to stop us from getting hurt, and if he hadn't, I wouldn't be here this orn. I probably would never have gotten into the Academy. I could be out there selling energon treats or doing construction work or something. And I guess that glitch must have forgotten, but I haven't. And I don't care what fragging bullies Megatron's trying to take down, he's wrong, and he's just going to end up getting thousands of mecha killed." Ratchet looked away.

Orion didn't know what to say.

"Soundwave wasn't the same after Searchlight offlined… but I still don't understand how he could have gotten so… stupid."

"I'm sorry," Orion said.

Ratchet waved him off. "Well, if that's all you wanted, I have to finish this leg. Do you know where Jazz is, by the way? Red Alert says he disappeared. He may not even be in the tower anymore. I _told_ him to stay in my office until I'd finished this, but he keeps wandering off."

"I believe he was going to talk to Mainspring after the ornly meeting," Orion said. "You could ask Mainspring if he knows where Jazz is."

Ratchet nodded. "I may try that. Or maybe I'll just let Jazz keep the peg leg. It would serve him right."

Orion looked down.

"So, if there's nothing else, you should go and get some recharge. You sound tired."

Orion hesitated.

The pain had retreated a little bit since he'd left Landquake's apartment.

And he was relatively certain Ratchet would force him to rest if he knew Orion was hurt, but Orion had a lot of work to do before the end of the orn. He didn't want to fall farther behind.

"What?" Ratchet said.

"Nothing," Orion told him, and left.

* * *

Elita took in a deep vent. She knew she'd hurt Orion's feelings the orn before, and then she'd just run off like an idiot.

He probably wouldn't be mad at her.

In fact, she was almost more scared that he wouldn't care, that he'd brush it off and tell her everything was fine.

But she needed to apologize anyway.

She knocked on his door.

"Come in," he called quietly from inside, so she hit the button to open the door and stepped into his office.

He smiled weakly at her. "Elita. Good orn."

"Are you busy?"

Orion sighed. "I need a break," he said. "So I'm glad you're here."

She couldn't help smiling back at him, even as a sort of tragic sorrow colored her emotional core. Primus, she loved this mech more than anything, and she missed their bond so much it was still almost physically painful.

She came and sat across from him. "You sound tired."

"I know," he said. "It's been a long orn. Did you know Ultra Magnus was imprisoned?"

"Yes. I think I heard it from Chromia a while ago," Elita said. "Did you not know?"

"I didn't," Orion said. "And he's disappeared completely now. He's not in the prison where he's supposed to be. The Council's done something with him."

The guilt and pain on his faceplate were hard to watch, but she couldn't look away.

"That's terrible," she said. "It's not your fault, though."

"I shouldn't have sent him back. I wanted an easy way to solve the problem, but… I should have known better."

"I'm sorry," Elita said, reaching out to put a hand on top of his.

He smiled tiredly at her, then raised his free hand to cover his faceplate, leaning forward.

"Are you all right?"

"I have processor ache," he said. "But other than that I'm fine."

"I think you've been working too hard," Elita said.

"That's possible," Orion muttered. "But I still have a few more things to do this orn."

Elita nodded. "I'll let you get to it so you can rest, but… first I wanted to apologize for what I said last orn."

He looked up at her.

"I shouldn't have accused you of knowingly hurting me. I just…"

"You don't need to apologize," Orion said. "But if it helps, you're forgiven. We're all stressed right now. And… it is true that I could technically have refused to be the Prime. No one forced me."

"I'm glad you accepted," Elita said.

"Really?" he asked.

"Well…" she looked down. "I'm not _really_ happy about it I guess, but at the same time… It's complicated. I know it's supposed to be you, and so I'm grateful…"

"You don't have to be happy about it," Orion said.

Emotion swelled up inside of her. She tried so hard not to be upset about the whole situation—she didn't want him to give her permission to be unhappy, but…

"Elita?"

She took a deep vent and forced herself to smile at him. "I'm all right."

"Oh," Orion said. "There is a favor I'd like to ask of you."

"What is it?" Elita asked.

"Ironhide says some of our soldiers have started asking for some sort of symbol to wear, to distinguish them as Autobots. I think it's a good idea, but I don't have time to find something. Would you and your department come up with some sort of insignia for us?"

Elita tilted her helm to the side. "I think I could do that. I'm going to spend a few joors with my sisters next orn, and we can come up with something."

"I don't want you to spend your leisure time—"

"It's all right. It actually sounds kind of fun."

"Thank you," Orion said, wincing.

"Let me know if there's anything else you need," Elita said. "I'd love to talk a little more, but you look really tired. And you should go see Ratchet if you still have a processor ache by the end of the orn."

"I will," Orion said.

"Good," Elita stood. "I'll see you later."

She left. That had gone better than she thought it would, and she felt a little better. Except that she was worried about Orion now. She hoped he really did talk to Ratchet—he was probably in more pain than he was letting her see.

She went back to her department.

* * *

Orion couldn't recharge.

He had stayed up late trying to get through reports, approve things, write statements and letters, and answer questions. It had taken a long time because it was hard to focus on anything. Elita had sent him a message before she'd turned in for the off-cycle, asking if he was feeling better. He'd lied and said he was.

And now he lay on his berth, trying and failing to block out the pain. It was even worse now that he didn't have any work to distract himself with.

He was going to be up all off-cycle.

But he was fairly sure Ratchet was recharging, and he didn't want to wake the medic up.

He knew he ought to. He really ought to.

And he needed to rest so he could focus next orn.

He dragged himself off of his berth. He had a small desk in his room as well, and he sat there and tried to get a few more things done so he could at least be productive while not resting.

But in a few breems he gave up and put his helm down on the desk.

He couldn't do this anymore. He activated his comm.

" _Ratchet."_

Ratchet was a few astroseconds in answering.

" _What is it?"_

" _I can't recharge."_

" _Well,"_ Ratchet sent back snappishly, _"Comm. someone else and ask them to tell you a bedtime story. Or count to a trillion, or something._ "

Orion shuttered his optics.

" _Good off-cycle."_

" _My helm hurts."_ Orion said.

There was only static on the other end for a moment. _"How badly?"_

" _I can't recharge."_

" _Can you walk?"_

" _Yes."_

" _All right. Come to my office."_

Orion got up from his desk, feeling relieved, and also self-conscious. Ratchet was going to ask him why he hadn't mentioned it earlier. Ratchet was going to ask him what had happened. Orion did not like lying.

He opened his door and tried to slip past Ironhide, who, as per usual, was recharging outside of his room.

Ironhide un-shuttered his optics, and got to his pedes. "'Rion," he said groggily. "What..?"

"I'm going to see Ratchet about a processor ache," Orion said. "It's okay, you can go back to recharging."

Ironhide grumbled something, but got up and started following Orion.

"Really," Orion said.

"I don't trust you," Ironhide said. "I'm not letting you wander around by yourself."

Orion shook his helm, but didn't protest further. They walked together to Ratchet's office. Ratchet was ready for them. He pointed to a berth, and Orion sat on it while the medic scanned him.

He shuttered his optics, preparing himself for the inevitable yelling.

"Primus…" Ratchet said.

"What?" Ironhide asked.

"When did this happen!" Ratchet demanded.

"End of the orn," Orion lied. "It just… started hurting."

"What?" Ironhide asked.

"Shut up," Ratchet pulled his wrench out of subspace and pointed it at Ironhide threateningly. Then he put it away again and muttered under his breath about idiots.

"What?" Ironhide said. "Is he all right?"

"Give me access to your pain grid," Ratchet said. Orion obligingly slid the panel away from the back of his neck. A few moments later, the pain was gone.

Orion vented out slowly. Exhaustion and relief hit him in a wave.

"You know why this happened, don't you?" Ratchet said.

Orion didn't answer.

"It's because you've been pushing yourself too hard. Too much work and stress, and not enough recharge."

Orion looked at Ratchet, who glared back at him. Then the medic looked away, expression softening. "I guess we're all doing a little of that."

"Yes," Orion said.

"However, you are _going_ to get enough recharge in the future." He got his wrench out and waved it in front of Orion's faceplate. "Or so help me, I will knock you out every off-cycle."

"And I'll watch," Ironhide said. "And laugh every time."

Ratchet threw the wrench at him. Orion winced, and heard it hit something. Probably the wall, because Ironhide didn't cry out.

"Lie down. I'm going to put you in stasis, and see if there's anything I can do to help."

"Okay," Orion said, and lay down on the berth, shuttering his optics. He could feel himself slipping into recharge already. Coming to see Ratchet had definitely been worth it.

"And I meant that about getting enough rest."

"I know."

"You're an idiot."

Orion smiled slightly. "Thank you for helping me."

"Just stop talking."

He heard, almost distantly, Ratchet moving equipment around, and then felt himself slip into stasis.


	23. Legends

The Institute was under attack. Neurosis could hear the firefight through the walls. He paced back and forth across his workroom, deliberating. Destroy his research? Try to take it with him? Run and leave it behind? Oh dear, oh dear, what to do?

He wished he'd had more time.

The Council had told him to be ready to move, so he'd been preparing for that, but this was too early.

Finally, _finally,_ Halogen's assistant answered the comm.

" _Yes? Can I help you?"_

" _Help would be wonderful, yes,"_ Neurosis said. _"We're having a slight problem here. I believe the Decepticons are attempting to capture my facility."_

Silence on the other end for an astrosecond.

" _Hello?"_ Neurosis said.

" _Already?"_ the mech on the other end asked. _"I don't think… the Council didn't say anything about… hold on, I'll talk to Lord Halogen and then comm. back."_

The mech cut the comm.

Neurosis heaved a world-weary sigh. Politics. They wouldn't be fast enough.

Well, if he could keep the Decepticons distracted long enough, he might be able to hold out until the Council got here to save him.

Of course, the other option was to abandon them and swear loyalty to Megatron instead.

It wasn't really the Council he worked for anyway, and he was pretty sure his true employers wouldn't care whether he was working under a corrupt gladiator or a corrupt government official, so long as he kept his focus on what was truly important.

Everything would be fine.

The door opened with a bang and Neurosis stopped pacing and turned to face the intruders. "Good orn," he said cheerfully. "How can I help you?"

"Where's the head scientist here?" one of the mechs growled.

"Why, that would be me! Are you Decepticons? Is Megatron here? Does he want a tour?"

As if on cue, the big gladiator entered the room. He had to stoop a little to get in the doorway. And following him…

"Soundwave!" Neurosis said. "My dear friend! It's good to see you! How are you faring these orns? Have you figured out how to control your range, or do you just have processor surgery every few—?"

"You are Neurosis?" Megatron demanded, cutting him off.

Neurosis turned his attention back to the gladiator. "I am."

Megatron glanced at Soundwave, then back to Neurosis. "This facility now belongs to me. And yes, I would like a tour."

"Of course!" Neurosis said. "Come right this way!"

Halogen's assistant commed him again, but he didn't answer. Soundwave was undoubtedly listening in on his thoughts, and he didn't want any of the Council's secrets to slip through. He'd have to be very careful about that. He started thinking about some of his work to keep his processor occupied so he didn't let any sensitive information make its way through his processor.

If they left before the Council sent back-up, Megatron would probably want to take Neurosis and his work to Kaon. Hopefully this move wouldn't cause too many setbacks. He was so close to a breakthrough—he hoped Megatron didn't want him to switch projects. Of course, from what he knew of the gladiator, Megatron wouldn't have any silly moral qualms about the things Neurosis did.

* * *

Halogen sat with his optics shuttered, listening to the clamor around him as Councilmechs argued, threw accusations at each other and disagreed about what to do.

He was still trying to figure out how this had happened.

"...that's why we should tell the Autobots—"

"But we can't make a scene! The public thinks the Institute was discontinued."

"The original plan involved letting that information out anyway."

" _What_ original plan? We hadn't even _finalized_ the plans."

"How did the Decepticons find it? Who's in charge of keeping its location secret. Isn't that _you,_ Ratbat?"

"It most certainly is not."

Halogen got a comm. from his secretary.

 _"Your Honor, Neurosis won't answer his comm."_

Halogen's optics snapped open. _"What do you mean? Why?"_

 _"Well, I don't know, Sir."_

 _"Didn't he ask for help a breem ago?"_

 _"Yes, Your Honor."_

Halogen frowned. Neurosis must know they couldn't coordinate sending him help if he didn't talk to them. So what did it mean that he was suddenly refusing to communicate with the Council? Did he have a plan for dealing with Megatron already? Was he offline? Had Megatron offered to let him join the Decepticons?

"Lord Halogen?" Senator Decimus asked. "What do you think we should do?"

The noise in the room slowly tapered off. Halogen glanced over to the empty seat where Alpha Trion would be, were he here. He was generally good at figuring out what to do in difficult situations such as this, though in this case, Halogen doubted he'd be willing to help them. He had always argued against continuing the research at the Institute.

Then again, he wouldn't have wanted to let it fall into the hands of the Decepticons.

"Lord Halogen?" Decimus asked again.

"It seems we have a leak somewhere," Halogen said. "It is possible that if we rescued the Institute and relocated them, Megatron would find them again. It may be best to let him take the facility for now."

"But what about—"

"Senator, you asked for my opinion," Halogen said. "Believe me, I have taken everything into account. My suggestion is that we let Megatron have the Institute, and do everything in our power to make sure the public does not discover what happened. If he destroys the place, we won't have to worry about it anymore, and if he does not, then Neurosis will be able to continue his experiments."

"But..." one of the senators said. "He'll be working for Megatron. Don't we want to avoid that?"

Halogen hesitated. "Neurosis..." he said. "Neurosis will never be loyal to Megatron. He may use the tyrant's resources, but the purpose of his work will not change. Besides, sometimes it is better to cut your losses."

The Council would discuss it together before making a decision, but by the time they put it to a vote, it would most likely be too late for anything but damage control. This wasn't supposed to happen—Megatron always seemed to find a way to thwart all of Halogen's careful planning.

He could let this one go, though. If they launched some sort of counter-attack, it could end badly and expose the Institute, and he didn't want to risk that.

He knew when he was beaten.

* * *

"And here's our greatest success story!" Neurosis said. "You wouldn't recognize his faceplate, since he now no longer has one, but this mech used to be on the Iacon Council. Shockwave was his designation. He is fully functioning, but only feels the emotions that we reprogrammed him with. He's completely loyal, and just as brilliant as he was before. As a gift, the Council let me keep him on as an assistant. We left him a little scientific curiosity as well as the loyalty."

Megatron met the mech's single red optic as Neurosis kept talking, babbling on about his methods and the progress he'd been making lately. Shockwave's gaze was not vacant, though, as Megatron would have expected. There was something thoughtful, penetrating, and familiar about it.

There was tension in his frame too—frustration, maybe?

Interesting.

"…and that's the five breem version." Neurosis said. "I could go on and on, but I don't want to waste your time. I presume you want us to move."

"Yes," Megatron said. "I want you to take the groundbridge shield off of the building so we can leave immediately."

"Of course!" Neurosis said. "Shockwave, please lower the groundbridge shield."

Shockwave nodded deferentially, but Megatron thought he caught a subtle hint of resentment in the mech's stiff motion.

Completely loyal?

No.

Megatron had seen this before—he had experienced it, in fact.

This mech was a slave, and not a happy one.

"Wait," Megatron said, mentally asking Soundwave if this mech was really loyal to Neurosis. "Can Shockwave speak?"

"Well, yes," Neurosis's optics brightened. "Some of them can't, or at least don't, after shadowplay, but Shockwave's quite the conversationalist."

Megatron looked to Soundwave, who half-shrugged.

Well, _that_ was helpful.

Then again, Soundwave had seemed especially stiff and nervous since they had arrived here.

"I can speak," Shockwave said.

"Excellent," Megatron replied. "And you are Neurosis's assistant, correct? Do you work closely with him?"

"I do," Shockwave said.

"Do you agree with his methods?"

Shockwave hesitated.

"Oh, that might be a little too complex for him," Neurosis said. "Shadowplayed mecha tend to have one-track processors, and it's hard for them to make judgments based on—"

"I believe there are more efficient ways of performing shadowplay," Shockwave said. "And possibly other options to achieve the same results."

Neurosis stared at him, looking shocked. "You… didn't tell _me_ that, Shockwave."

"You never asked my opinion," Shockwave said without any of the inflection Megatron would expect from someone who was offended.

Very interesting.

"Hmm," Neurosis said, still looking unsettled. "Well, in the future, maybe—"

"No," Megatron said. "I'm sick of your chattering. Be silent."

Neurosis was bad news. Soundwave was terrified of him, and he was far too cheerful about all the horrible things he was doing here. He seemed unpredictable too.

And of course, he was very annoying.

"Neurosis said you are loyal, Shockwave. Who are you loyal to?" Megatron asked.

"Well, to me, of course," Neurosis cut in. "And the Council. But you know, it shouldn't be too hard to work around that part. He's _very_ reasonable."

"Hmmm…" So he wasn't _really_ loyal to the Council, and he wasn't really loyal to this Neurosis mech either.

"Do you know who I am?" Megatron asked.

Shockwave shook his helm.

"My designation is Megatron. I am going to stand in place of the Council some orn. In fact, this facility belongs to me already. As such, I'd like to ask you to do something for me. Are you willing to help me?"

"That depends," Shockwave deadpanned. "On whether your request is logical."

Megatron made optic contact with him, then glanced at Neurosis. Shockwave followed his gaze.

"What?" Neurosis asked.

"This facility belongs to me now."

"You've said that several times," Neurosis said. "And I've told you I'm fine with that. We're willing to work with—"

"Silence!" Megatron growled.

Neurosis pouted.

"Kill him," Megatron said to Shockwave. "And I'll put you in charge."

Shockwave seemed to consider it.

"What!" Neurosis said. "You don't want me offline. I'm the only one who really knows what I'm doing here. Besides, didn't I just tell you Shockwave is loyal to me? He won't hurt me. I'm cooperating with you anyway. Why would you want to get rid of me?"

This mech was a tyrant. Comfortable, talkative, wealthy, and in the business of taking good mecha and torturing them until they were nothing more than sparkless drones.

Megatron didn't aid oppressors.

He freed slaves.

"As you command, Megatron," Shockwave said.

* * *

Orion sat down across from Yoketron.

"How are you feeling?" Yoketron asked. "You did well in your training with Prowl."

"I'm much better," Orion said. His processor still hurt, but the pain was mild enough that he could ignore it without too much effort. "Did you talk to Alpha Trion about the trial?"

"Yes," Yoketron said. "And he was about as helpful as usual… he _did_ tell me that the point of the trial is to avoid fighting the memory wipe. If you can let all of your memories go without trying to hold on to anything, then you'll pass the trial."

Orion looked down.

He should have known that.

Deep down, he probably _had_ known that. But as hard as trying to hold on had been, he was certain letting go would be harder.

"Furthermore," Yoketron said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "He _insisted_ that you attempt the trial this orn. Though if you want I'll ignore that and you can take the orn off. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Orion studied his instructor's faceplate. "You don't like Alpha Trion very much, do you?"

Yoketron sighed. "Well… no."

"He's a good mech," Orion said. "He can be somewhat stiff on the outside, but he was an understanding and encouraging mentor. I don't think I would be who I am this orn without his guidance."

Yoketron shook his helm. "I fully believe that, but it doesn't change my mind about him. Just because he was a good mentor for you doesn't mean he's kind toward everyone."

"Admittedly…" Orion said, "Since I've been appointed a Prime he's seemed somewhat colder."

Yoketron frowned thoughtfully. "Interesting. He may simply be busy."

Orion nodded.

"Perhaps, if you have time some orn, you could visit him."

If he had time some orn.

Primus knew _that_ would never happen.

Orion sighed. "It would be good to catch up with him. But... right now, I should attempt the trial."

"Are you certain?" Yoketron asked. "We don't have to—"

"Yes," Orion said. "I'm all right."

Yoketron nodded and got up. Orion shuttered his optics, bracing himself for the data port to slide into the back of his helm.

He accessed the file on the data stick and the world around him disappeared into oppressive, inky blackness.

[Memory erase initiated. Beginning in five...]

He tried not to panic.

[…four…]

He realized he couldn't vent, couldn't feel his spark pulsing.

[…three…two…]

He felt for something, anything to hold on to, but there was no sensation, no feeling other than the dull throbbing pain.

[…one]

He started losing memories. Panicked, he clung to them, and agony blossomed in his processor. He let go and tried to calm down, but instinctively fought the memory wipe as cherished memories of close friends, good books, and quiet moments were all consumed by the nothingness.

And then there was a lonely peace for a moment, and the panic faded because he couldn't remember why he was afraid.

Orion gasped and un-shuttered his optics as all of his memories returned.

His helm throbbed and he leaned forward, putting his faceplate in his hands.

"Orion?"

The pain backed off and he shuddered.

That moment of nothingness was almost worse than the panic, in retrospect.

"That was much faster than the last time," Yoketron said. "But I think we're done for the orn,"

"No," Orion forced himself to sit up straight. "I'm not hurt," he lied. "That was just… more difficult than I thought. I need to try again."

Yoketron hesitated. "Please tell me the truth, Orion."

"I can do this," Orion said. "Please."

His teacher sighed. "Very well."

Orion took in a deep vent and prepared himself. He just had to stay calm. If he could stay calm, he could keep himself from fighting the memory wipe. And if he did that—just once—he would pass the trial and he could move on.

* * *

I followed Megatron silently through the groundbridge and back to the station in Kaon.

He transformed and I followed him as we flew back to the base, leaving his soldiers to escort all of the mecha from the Institute.

We landed in the courtyard just outside the main base.

There was a deep ache somewhere inside of me, but I wasn't even sure if it was physical or just emotional. Everything else was numb. Always before, I'd pulled back my range from mecha when they'd died. I hadn't wanted to listen.

I hadn't wanted to listen this time either, but I'd been trying to figure something out—something that had been at the edge of Neurosis's processor.

Something important.

But he'd been careful not to let me hear enough to understand, and then Shockwave had attacked him before I could figure it out.

Neurosis had tried to run, but there had been nowhere to go, not with Megatron blocking the doorway.

I'd probably never forget the way Shockwave had calmly, emotionlessly tackled him, slammed him to the ground. I'd probably never forget Neurosis's terror when the product of his own experiments had torn his chest open with bare hands in order to rip his spark chamber out.

But the worst part had been when Neurosis's spark had imploded. I wished I'd pulled my range back in. I wished I hadn't felt it. I felt like _I_ had died.

I still felt dead.

"Well," Megatron said. "I think that was successful." _Will Shockwave be loyal to us? I suppose you'll have to keep an optic on him… well, you don't have optics, but you get the idea._

I looked at him blankly, almost too numb to feel sarcastic.

"Well, what do you think of our faceless scientist?" Megatron was tired of my silence.

"He-e has hi-i-is own pro-ojects he wants to wo-ork on." I said.

 _Can't he do something about that stutter?_

I could. I banished all emotion from my voice. "Give him enough freedom and he will be content to assist you."

Megatron nodded. "Thank you. You may go."

I nodded, then turned and walked away.

Neurosis was dead.

If I hadn't watched him offline—if I hadn't _felt_ him offline—I'd probably be happy about that.

I went to my room and sat down on the berth. My symbiots could sense something was wrong, and they crowded around me, demanding to know if I was alright.

I didn't answer, but stroked the plating behind Ravage's audios absently, thinking as I waited for the numbness in my emotional core to fade.

Primus.

What was I doing here?

Megatron was completely certain what he was doing was right, or at least necessary. But then again, he was Searchlight, and Searchlight almost never second-guessed himself, even when he knew he was wrong.

I had made this decision to follow him, hoping I could help him, but so far I hadn't made much headway with him.

In fact, he was getting worse.

And I didn't know what to do about it.

* * *

Orion felt the world settle around him as his memories returned, but he didn't un-shutter his optics.

His processor ached, but it wasn't too bad. It would go away in a few breems, like always.

"Well?" Yoketron said

He sighed. "No luck. It's the same every time."

"The same?" Yoketron asked.

Orion un-shuttered his optics and looked down.

"What do you mean by that?" the Circuit-Su master prompted.

"Well…" Orion said. "I try not to fight it, but… the same things catch every time."

Yoketron nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. What do you have trouble letting go of, Orion?"

"My friends," Orion said quietly. "All of the sparklings I used to feed. Ironhide and Chromia and Perceptor… Megatronus…"

Yoketron was silent.

"But mostly Elita. I can't… We're trying not to drift apart, but we barely talk to each other anymore, and I don't think she trusts me… I suppose that's probably for the best, and it _is_ my fault in a way that our bond broke but…"

He didn't want to let go of her.

"That is the test," Yoketron said softly. "You have to be willing to give up all of that."

"What if I can't?" Orion said.

Yoketron looked troubled.

"What if I can't pass this trial?"

"Well…" Yoketron said. "When you're in the simulation, do you know it's a simulation?"

"Yes," Orion said. "But even so, it's… difficult not to panic." Losing memories was horrifying.

"Perhaps you could stay focused on what you need to do if you try to remind yourself that afterward you'll get all your memories back."

Orion started to nod, then froze as realization dawned in his processor.

"What is it?"

"No I won't," he said.

Yoketron was silent.

"Not in the end. When I receive the Matrix… I'll lose all my memories from before… I'll forget everything before they designated me a Prime. I'll forget my creators, and all of the little sparklings I used to give energon treats to, and I'll forget being an archivist, and I'll forget Senator Shockwave, and learning from Alpha Trion and meeting Elita. I'll forget…" He would forget being bonded with her. He shuttered his optics. "I know I can save memory files and watch them later, but it's not the same. It'll be like… like watching someone else's life."

Yoketron still didn't speak, so Orion continued.

"That's what this trial is preparing me for," Orion said.

Yoketron nodded.

"But I… don't want to lose all of that. I don't want to lose myself."

Silence fell.

Yoketron was a long time in answering.

"I teach mecha to control themselves," he said. "I teach them how to control their emotions and their frame, I teach them how to control their surroundings…" he sighed. "But control is not always the end goal. Often, when given a choice, the easier path is the one where you will have more control. But it's not always the right path. Becoming a Prime requires great personal sacrifice. You did not understand the extent of what you would be asked to give when you were chosen. But you did make a promise. What was that promise, Orion?"

"That I would do all in my power to protect and care for the mecha of Cybertron."

Yoketron nodded. "Even if it means losing yourself?"

Orion took in a deep vent and nodded.

"You have to trust that giving up your memories will be worth it. You have to believe that your spark will still be the same. It is a terrible sacrifice. But you know, Orion, I've been around a while. I've seen many mecha become Primes. The only ones who lose themselves are the ones who refuse to let go."

The words hung in the atmosphere for nearly a breem. Orion knew he had to do this. He had already decided to do this. He had promised he would do this.

The Autobots didn't need a librarian.

He had to let go of his past.

"Thank you, Master Yoketron." Orion said. "I am ready to try again."

Yoketron nodded solemnly. "Very well. But only once more this orn. Then you may leave."

"But…" Orion said.

"I don't want you to push yourself too far."

"Three more times," Orion said. "I'll try hard to let go. I might get it on the first one. But if I don't, I don't want to waste time. We're still behind."

Yoketron hesitated. Then sighed. "You know, most of my students can't talk me into things I don't want to do. I must be losing my touch. Three times."

Orion readied himself.

He attempted the trial.

And failed.

He tried a second time.

And failed again.

It didn't matter how hard he tried, he couldn't let go of the archives or his friends. And he especially couldn't let go of Elita.

The harder he tried, the more desperately he needed her, and the more it hurt when she was finally gone.

He tried a third time.

And failed.

His optics opened and all of his memories returned.

Yoketron was sitting across from him, looking worried.

"I'm sorry," Orion said, waiting impatiently for his processor ache to back off. "I couldn't do it."

"It is all right," Yoketron said. "I think we need to take a break from this trial for a few orns."

"No," Orion said. "We can't. I can't afford to waste time. The sooner I complete the trials—"

"I understand that," Yoketron said. "But beating yourself uselessly against the wall is less productive than looking for a door. You need a break and I need to work on a solution."

"A solution?" Orion asked. "To…what? The trial?"

"In a roundabout way, yes," Yoketron said. "Hopefully… unless it ruins everything, in which case I think Alpha Trion will kill me."

Orion frowned, confused. "I'm… not going to cheat on the trial. I need to do this honestly."

Yoketron smiled slightly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tamper with the _trial_. That would be counterproductive."

"What are you planning to do, then?"

"Don't worry about it," Yoketron repeated. "I still have to think through everything and I don't dare explain it to you yet. For now, you are dismissed."

"But…"

Yoketron held up a hand. "You are dismissed. Get some rest, I can tell you lied to me about your helm hurting."

Orion looked down. "I apologize..."

"It's fine," Yoketron said.

Orion stood and bowed. "Thank you, Master Yoketron."

Yoketron stood as well and returned the gesture. "It is an honor to instruct you, Orion Pax."

Orion left the crystal garden, wondering what Yoketron was planning, but he didn't have much time to think about it.

There were a lot of things to do.

* * *

"What about this one?" Moonracer said, pointing to a symbol on the datapad. "We could do something like this."

Elita tilted her helm to the side.

"That one's too girly," Chromia said. "We're an army, not a fragging primary school."

She and Ironhide had had an argument earlier in the orn so she was in a bad mood.

"Hmm…" Moonracer said. "This one's nice."

"That one's boring."

"Okay," Moonracer glared at her sister. "You can stop that."

Chromia just scowled.

"Femmes," Elita said. "Please?"

Moonracer sighed and went back to skimming through the large collection of symbols. "We could just draw one. I mean, we've tried that, and it's never quite right. We could use stylized glyphs or something…"

"We already discussed why we're not doing that," Chromia snapped.

Most gangs used stylized glyphs in their insignias. The Autobots were not a gang.

"We should use something with historical significance," Elita said. "I want it to be meaningful."

"Meaningful?" Chromia said. "It'll automatically mean something as soon as we make it our official insignia."

"Hey, look, it's the Quintesson symbol," Moonracer held up the datapad.

Elita frowned. "Not that kind of historical significance."

Moonracer smirked and went back to looking.

"What about that one?" Chromia pointed.

Moonracer cocked her helm to the side. "That one's kind of ugly."

Elita looked over at it. It was roughly in the shape of a mech's helm.

"It looks kind of done with life," Chromia said. "Which is how I feel right now."

Elita reached over and tapped on the symbol, which brought up a small blurb about it.

"Hey," Moonracer said, yanking the datapad away.

"What does it say?" Elita asked.

Moonracaer studied the datapad thoughtfully. "It's from a legend," she said. "About a powerful warrior, who's in stasis until there's a great calamity of some sort. Then he wakes up."

"In time to save everyone?" Chromia asked.

"Well, one would assume so," Moonracer said. "That would be funny, though. 'Primus, I overslept…. Wait, where is everyone?' That would really rust. In any case, we can't use this one, it's ugly."

"Actually," Elita said. "I think I've heard that legend before..."

"If it doesn't specifically say he woke up in time to save everyone, you need to look up the legend," Chromia said. "I don't want to accidentally pick the symbol of a loser for our insignia."

"We can't all wear this," Moonracer said. "It's hideous. We're picking something else."

* * *

Orion looked up when his office door opened.

"Good orn," he said.

"Prime," the light blue mech stepped inside. "I'm sorry to bother you. Mainspring said he'd let you know I wanted to talk to you…"

"Come in," Orion said. He'd probably got a message from Mainspring about it, but hadn't seen it. "Please sit down, Blurr."

"Thank you," the mech said. "I'm surprised you remember me."

"I've seen you in the tower before," Orion said. "You're friends with Mirage, aren't you?"

"Yes," Blurr said. "And I won't take up too much of your time, but I wanted to offer something in support of the cause… If you run all the way through Mirage's credit, I can help with funding."

Orion blinked.

"It's the least I can do," Blurr said.

"Are you certain you'd be willing to—"

"Of course," Blurr said, "What else am I going to with it all? Besides, if war breaks out in earnest, I want to be part of the solution."

"Thank you," Orion said. "I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am."

"It's nothing," Blurr said, crossing his arms. "And I don't have quite as much as Mirage since my fortune is shared among multiple mecha in my tower… but I never spent any of my earnings from racing, and that adds up to a decent amount of credit."

Orion would imagine so. He'd heard a little bit about Blurr's racing record.

"So," Blurr said. "That's all I really had to say, and I don't want to take up more of your time. If you have any questions, Mainspring or Mirage can get in contact with me."

"Again, thank you," Orion said.

Blurr nodded, then stood and left, nearly bumping into Elita on the way out.

* * *

Elita stepped past Blurr, who nodded to her as he exited Orion's office.

Orion watched her thoughtfully as she crossed the room to sit down in front of him. He looked sad about something. Then again, he almost always did.

"How is your helm?" she asked.

"Not as bad as last orn," Orion said.

"Good. How are you other than that?"

He would probably tell her he was fine. He was a terrible liar, though.

"I'm all right," Orion said.

Elita raised an optic ridge.

"Stressed," Orion amended, "And tired. But all right."

There was something he wasn't telling her—something he didn't _want_ to tell her. He'd admitted it once or twice before changing the subject. She had wondered, after hearing the rumors about him, that he didn't want to tell her he'd known he would become a Prime, but she was fairly sure he was telling the truth about that since she'd asked him.

She would probably have known if he was lying.

Part of her wanted to ask outright, to demand that he tell her whatever it was that he was keeping from her. But another part of her didn't want it to come to that. She wanted him to open up to her on his own. She wanted him to trust her.

"How are you?" he asked quietly.

Elita smiled. "Stressed and tired too. But I'm doing as well as anyone could expect given all of the circumstances."

Orion nodded.

"I've been so busy I haven't even been able to train with my sisters for the past few orns," Elita said. "Oh, but I still want to spar with you sometime. I want to see if I can beat you."

Orion shook his helm. "I wouldn't be surprised if you can."

"Really?" Elita asked. "Don't you train for joors and joors every orn with that Circuit-Su Master?"

Orion hesitated. "Well… yes, but I'm not very good."

That had sounded distinctly uncomfortable.

"I suppose you have other kinds of training for being a Prime too," she said. "Right? That probably takes up some of the time."

Orion nodded.

"I… shouldn't ask…"

"I'm not supposed to tell you about that part of my training," Orion said.

"Not supposed to, or don't want to?"

He wouldn't meet her optics.

She looked down as well. "I guess it's none of my business. In any case, some orn, you have to make time to spar with me."

"I'll try," Orion said.

Still very uncomfortable. "What?" Elita asked. "Are you really that worried about losing to me?"

"If you must know," Orion looked ashamed. "I don't like the idea of you out on a battlefield, or in any sort of danger. That probably offends you…"

"Well, yes," Elita said. "This is my fight too. But I probably won't end up on a battlefield any time soon—I just want to be prepared."

Orion nodded.

"In any case," Elita said, pulling out her datapad. "My sisters and I came up with an idea for an insignia. We were thinking of using this, maybe modifying it a little because Moonracer's picky." She showed him the symbol.

"Hmm…" Orion said. "I recognize that from somewhere."

Elita nodded. "It's from an old story. It's the symbol of a legendary warrior who goes into stasis to await a great future conflict. But by the time he comes back online, it's almost too late. He manages to save everyone, but dies in the process… I know that's kind of a sad story but something about it feels right to me."

Orion nodded. "I agree. Have Moonracer modify it, and we'll pitch it in the meeting next orn."

Elita nodded.

"Thank you for finding it."

"Of course," Elita said. "And… I should go. I have a lot of things to do. But it was good to talk to you."

He nodded, and she got up and walked from his office. She had a meeting she needed to prepare for, and she probably had a whole bunch of messages to look through as well. She opened up her inbox on her datapad and skimmed the list of new messages.

One caught her optic. Curious, she opened it.

[Elita One,

I know you must be busy, but when you have time, preferably within the next few orns, I would like to meet with you. There is a matter of importance that I would like to discuss with you.

Thank you,

Yoketron]


	24. Slaughter City

Breeze opened the door and ushered the three mecha in with their menagerie of symbiots, then glanced outside before shutting them all in the safety of her home. "Primus, it's been so long…"

"Thank you again for letting us stay here," Keepsake said as Breeze embraced her.

"No worries," Breeze flicked her doorwings and turned to embrace Cam as well. "It's so good to see both of you."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Cam asked. "We don't want to put you in danger."

"I'm more than happy to have you here, and I'm sure I won't be in that much danger. Our Council has promised to stay neutral, no matter what happens, so Praxus is probably as safe as it gets. In fact…" she took in a deep vent and let it out. "You're not the only ones hiding from the war in this neighborhood. Come, sit down. Are you tired? You've been traveling, right?"

"Yes," Keepsake said, letting Breeze guide them into the front room to sit down. "We've been trying to find somewhere to move to, but, well…"

"You should have contacted me earlier," Breeze said.

"The Autobots were following us," Cam seemed angry, which was a rare emotion for him. "Ratchet came and tried to talk us into joining them, and then we couldn't shake them for decaorns."

"Oh," Breeze said. "How is Ratchet doing?"

"He's deceived," Cam said. "I'm not sure if he lied to us and helped the Autobots find us or if they're the ones lying to him, but either way, he's wrong about them. They aren't any better than the Decepticons. In fact, they're probably worse."

Keepsake sighed.

"I'm not sure if I agree with that," Breeze said. Why did he sound so bitter?

Cam looked at her with what was almost suspicion. "Have you heard some of the things they've uncovered about this Optimus Prime character?"

Breeze shook her helm, doorwings fluttering uneasily. "It's all silly. I bet half of it's made up, and I'm sure he's a good mech. He's just an idealist."

"So is Megatron."

"No," Breeze was hurt by the tone in his voice. "Cam, I've met both of them. I got to perform a mental examination on both of them. Megatron is…" Searchlight. He was Searchlight, but broken. They didn't know that though, did they? "I don't think he's really sane. Orion is completely harmless, in comparison."

Cam shook his helm. "Right. Then why did he send mecha to spy on us and follow us?"

Breeze frowned. "Are you sure about that? I can't imagine the Autobots wanting you to join them _that_ badly. How do you know he sent mecha to follow you?" That claim seemed beyond unreasonable. Even in these times, that sort of paranoia was a little much.

"Oh," Keepsake said. "She doesn't—"

"Right," Cam said, looking at Blaster.

She followed their gaze. The little mech was staring at her with wide, surprised optics, but then after a moment, he looked at his caretakers and nodded slightly.

She'd heard they had adopted an orphan, but had never met him before.

"We forgot to introduce you." Keepsake beckoned to the mechling, who stepped forward so she could put an arm around his shoulders. "Breeze, this is our youngling, Blaster…" Keepsake said.

"Very good to meet you," Breeze said, wondering whether this tied in to the idea that the Autobots were following them.

"You too." Blaster smiled cheerfully.

Silence fell for a moment, and Keepsake glanced at Cam one more time before speaking again. "Blaster is… he's like Soundwave."

Breeze cocked her helm to the side. Like…

Oh.

She looked at Blaster again. _Like Soundwave as in you can hear this?_ She wondered.

"I can," Blaster said quietly and his symbiot cat came up and stuck its helm under his hand, purring gently.

"That's why the Autobots want him," Cam said. "That's why we have to go into hiding in the first place."

Blaster tilted his helm to the side. "I think the Autobots who were following us just want us to be safe," he said.

"No," Cam said. "Some of them might mean well, but they're…" he sighed. "I'm tired of this argument, mechling."

"I know," Blaster yawned.

"That's… amazing," Breeze said. "How did you find him?"

Keepsake and Cam glanced at each other.

"What?"

"Soundwave found him," Keepsake said. "Blaster wasn't originally a telepath either, but the government made him into one. He escaped from them, then ran into Soundwave, who brought him to us."

Breeze shook her helm. "Primus… that Council…"

"Well, we're happy to have him," Keepsake said. "He's a wonderful little mechling."

"And he's _not_ going to join that false Prime's army," Cam said.

"Cam," Keepsake said with a disapproving frown and that tone of voice that suggested she might send him to sit on the front steps if he kept this up.

Of course, that thought brought back memories. Breeze's doorwings drooped a little as she thought about Searchlight.

"Look," Cam said. "If Optimus is actually worthy of being a Prime, why is Soundwave a Decepticon? It doesn't make sense, _unless_ he saw through Optimus's lies and decided to go with Megatron."

Breeze looked down. She knew why Soundwave had gone with Megatron, and it had nothing to do with Orion Pax telling lies.

Oh, Primus, now Blaster knew. She looked at the mechling. _Please don't tell them. It will only make everything worse. I wish I didn't know…_

Blaster met her optics and nodded solemnly.

 _They still miss him too, don't they?_

He nodded again.

"What?" Cam demanded.

"I'm not going to argue with you," Breeze said. "But I do disagree. Soundwave's… different now."

"Have you talked to him?" Keepsake asked, looking hopeful.

Breeze sighed. "I've tried. He never answers me, though, no matter how many times I try to comm. or message him." He probably knew that what he was doing was wrong, and he didn't want to give her the chance to talk him out of it.

She'd given up after a while. There was something she wanted to tell him—something she'd been researching—but she wasn't really sure if she should explain it until she had evidence that it would work.

Maybe she should try again, though.

"Well," she said. "Let me show you where everything is. You'll all have to share a room—I hope that's all right."

"It's fine, of course," Keepsake said.

Breeze showed them to the room she'd prepared for them, and then gave them a brief tour of her apartment before excusing herself to go to her own room. It was surprisingly painful to have Keepsake and Cam here. It seemed every time she thought she was done being sad about Searchlight, something would remind her and all the emotions would come back again.

She sat at her desk and turned on her datapad.

It had been a while since she'd reached out to Soundwave. She should do it while she was thinking about it.

She typed up a message. [Hello again. I hope you read this even if you don't answer. I want you to know that I'm still your friend no matter what, and that I miss you and worry about you. Please talk to me, Soundwave.]

She hesitated a few astroseconds, then sent the message.

Then she set the datapad down on her desk. She'd check back in a few joors, but probably…

The datapad pinged softly.

Breeze looked at it, hardly daring to hope…

He'd answered.

Three words.

[Can't talk now.]

She hurried to type a response. [Will you talk to me later, then?]

She had barely sent it when the entry request chimed. She looked up, wondering who it could be. She should probably have Keepsake and Cam and Blaster hide in their room.

She glanced back at the datapad, but Soundwave hadn't answered yet, so she left it there and went out to the front room where the others were.

"You three should…"

"It's your friend," Blaster said.

"Hmm?" Breeze said.

"The one who's hiding from the war. You thought about him while you were talking earlier."

Oh.

"Is it safe for him to know we're here?" Cam asked.

Breeze hesitated. "I think so," she said. "You might recognize him, too, though I don't know if you'll remember him very well, and he's… well…"

She should get the door.

She crossed the room and opened it. "Good orn, Wheeljack. Come in."

The mech stepped inside and she closed the door behind him.

"I've got guests, as you can see," Breeze said.

He looked at them. "Oh," he said dully. "Searchlight's creators."

Cam nodded, and Keepsake sucked in a quick gasp.

"What?" Wheeljack snapped, looking alarmed.

"Nothing," Keepsake said, with sorrow written across her faceplate. "I just remembered—we met you a few times, before…"

"Yeah." Wheeljack crossed his arms, emotionless again. "Breeze you should turn on the news."

The news? "Why?"

He didn't answer.

Her comm. was connected to her holoscreen, so she ordered it to turn on and start playing a news feed.

Smoke and energon filled the frame in the top corner of the screen, and the news anchor's discourse was accompanied by sirens wailing quietly in the background.

"Primus beneath…" Keepsake breathed.

* * *

Orion's comm beeped insistently, dragging him out of recharge. He checked his internal timepiece as his optics came online, and then rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. Thirty-one joors. It was the middle of the off-cycle. Did Prowl _have_ to comm. him in the middle of the off-cycle? It was hard enough already to get sufficient recharge.

The past few decaorns had been less eventful but frustrating anyway. Orion was still stuck on Alpha Trion's trial, and Yoketron wouldn't let him attempt it more than once an orn. Furthermore, Elita had been different lately—not exactly distant, just… she no longer seemed upset about the broken bond.

He was worried she might have moved on, and while part of him was happy about that, another guilty part of him was devastated, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself it was for the better.

He would get over it eventually, he supposed. And it wasn't like she was going anywhere.

Prowl commed him again.

Right. Orion hoped this was something important. He opened the internal comm. channel.

" _Prime, the Decepticons are attacking Slaughter City."_

Orion sat up. _"What?"_

" _We're already deploying our soldiers, but we need you in the command center."_

He bolted off of his berth, just as someone pounded on his door.

Pit. He took it back. He wished Prowl had been comming him about something trivial.

He tried to shake the numb feeling of recharge from his processor as he opened the door. He expected to see Ironhide standing outside, but it was just one of Red Alert's guards. His spark sank as he realized his friend was probably heading for the battlefield.

Along with all of their soldiers.

Orion nodded to the mech and walked quickly down the hall. Red Alert sent him an invitation to a group comm, and he joined and listened in as the head of security directed traffic around the base, making sure everymech knew where they needed to be. As frustrating as he could be on an ornly basis, he was amazing in a crisis.

Orion made it out into the central room, which was a hive of activity. Mecha were setting up portable screens along the walls, and chairs in the center of the room where the other commanders were gathering. Orion walked toward Chromia, Elita, and Prowl, and joined the group comm. that all of the heads of departments were communicating over as well, leaving Red Alert's so he could focus on what his other friends were discussing.

His helm filled with chatter. Ironhide announced that he was heading to the groundbridge station. Prowl reported that he'd already sent several units of ground troops to head a Decepticon contingency in the central sector of Slaughter City. Chromia let them know that the groundbridges were running smoothly and at full capacity. Elita mentioned she was talking with the Slaughter City Council.

Orion realized he really wasn't sure what he should be doing right now. He sat down next to Elita, who shot him a quiet smile, but looked distracted. Prowl was sitting on her other side, optics shuttered, hands resting on his knees.

Screens lit up all around the room—some displaying maps with moving dots, and others video feeds.

Red Alert, who was pacing nervously nearby, muttered something about security footage.

" _Orion,"_ Prowl said over the comm. _"We're ready to engage the enemy, but I need the go-ahead from you."_

Orion took in a deep vent.

" _Orion!"_

" _All right,"_ Orion replied. _"Proceed."_

He watched as more colored dots blinked into existence on the main map in front of him, some purple, some red.

" _Prowl!"_ Ratchet shouted over the comm. _"We can't set up triage so close to the fighting."_

" _Yes you can,"_ Prowl said. _"You won't be close to the fighting for long, and that's the most defensible spot in the vicinity. You'll be fine. Elita, I told you I need command of the Slaughter City Council guard and enforcement."_

" _The Grand Councilfemme's not sure she wants to fight,"_ Elita said. _"She's thinking about surrendering. Orion, can you try to talk some sense into her? She's not listening to me."_

" _Okay."_

Orion accepted the comm. transfer, half paying attention to the preliminary casualty report Chromia sent them. Mecha were offline already.

" _Optimus Prime,"_ the Councilfemme said. _"You can't hold the city. You should get your soldiers back out if you want them to survive. We're going to surrender."_

" _We can hold the city,"_ Orion assured her. He wished he was more confident about that, but the dots on the screen were overwhelmingly purple. _"We're prepared for this."_

" _No you aren't. You don't know just how_ many _of them there are,"_ the panicked Councilfemme said. _"We don't stand a chance—Slaughter City's not defensible enough and you don't have enough soldiers There are_ ten thousand _of them here already and they're still pouring through groundbridges._ "

" _Please…"_

" _I know we asked for your help, but it's too late. I'm contacting Megatron to tell him we surrender. You should get your soldiers out of the city."_

" _No."_

" _There will be fewer casualties if we don't fight. If you really care about your mecha, and the mecha of Cybertron, you'll fall back."_

Orion stared up at the map of the city. Fewer casualties was a good thing. This femme probably knew Megatron would kill her and the rest of the Council like he had in Tarn. But she was willing to surrender for her mecha.

Then again, Megatron probably wouldn't stop with the Council. And he certainly wouldn't stop with Slaughter City.

" _Your Honor,"_ he said. _"Giving more power to a tyrant will not prevent him from killing. Surrender will only save lives if there is no chance of winning. And even then-"_

" _But you can't win."_

" _Listen to me,"_ Orion said. _"If retreat becomes necessary, we will retreat, but do not surrender to Megatron yet."_

" _Orion,"_ Prowl said. _"Are you making headway with that Councilor? We need all the help we can get from within the city."_

Orion hesitated. _"Prowl, we can win this, right?"_

" _Of course we can,"_ Prowl snapped. _"It'll be easier with help, though."_

" _If Megatron answers me, I'm going to surrender,"_ the Councilfemme repeated.

" _No,"_ Orion said. _"We can help you. We can't afford to let your city fall into Megatron's hands, and neither can you. Captured civilians are forced to join his armies or work in the mines. Their lives will only be temporarily prolonged if you surrender."_

She was silent.

" _On the other hand, if we win, you can retain your freedom."_

" _How can we trust you?"_ the Councilfemme asked. _"We don't even know who you're working for or how you rose to power."_

Primus, not those rumors. _"Your Honor,"_ Orion said. _"I swear to you I only want to help. And I promise that we won't lose. You have my word as a Prime. They may have more soldiers than we do, but that does not mean they will win. We are fighting for more than they are, and we have resources they don't."_

Silence on the other end.

" _We need you to work with us,"_ Orion said. _"Please. I know you're hesitant to trust me, but your alternative is just as bad as fighting and losing…"_

" _Very well, Prime,"_ the Councilfemme sounded subdued. _"We will hold off on surrendering… and I'll give you command of my guards and all the enforcers in the sector."_

" _Thank you."_

" _No… thank you, Prime. Some mecha say the Iacon Council chose you, but I hope for all our sakes that Primus had a hand in it too."_

Orion hoped so as well. _"In either case, we are grateful for your help. May I transfer you to my representative again?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Elita, you can take her back,"_ Orion said over the group comm. and passed the conversation to her again. Then he checked the latest report Chromia had sent and looked at the screens again. Both sides had groundbridged directly into the central sector of the city, at multiple locations, and there were no concentrated fronts, just groups of red and purple dots. There was a lot more purple than red, and though they had only activated the groundbridges a few breems ago, Chromia's casualty estimate was already in the hundreds.

If they won, it would be at a heavy cost.

On the other hand, if they lost then the war was over.

He hoped fervently that Prowl knew what he was doing. He could understand why the Grand Councilfemme had been reluctant to trust them.

" _Prowl?"_

" _Don't distract me,"_ Prowl snapped.

Orion watched as Autobot soldiers broke into smaller groups, scattering among the thickening sea of purple dots.

Someone sat down on his other side, and he turned to see that Mainspring, Mirage, and Jazz had come in.

"That don't look so good," Jazz said out loud, staring up at the screen.

"Do you need the codes for the group comm?" Orion asked.

Jazz shook his helm. "I think I'd just be in the way. I don't have anything ta contribute."

They sat and watched for several breems. Orion listened as Prowl, Elita, Red Alert, Chromia, and Ironhide talked back and forth. He was grateful every time he heard Ironhide's simulated voice over the comm.

If they lost, Ironhide would probably be killed.

" _Orion…"_ Elita's simulated voice was hesitant.

" _Yes?"_

" _We're getting a comm. from… Megatron."_

Orion froze. He had all but given up trying to get in contact with the former gladiator. _"Let me talk to him."_

" _Here."_

Orion took in a deep vent.

" _Hello,_ Prime. _"_

" _Megatronus,"_ Orion said. _"Stop this madness."_

" _If you surrender, I will… consider it."_

" _We do not need to have a war."_

He heard a quiet laugh.

" _Mecha are offlining each other out there. Why do they have to die, just because you're angry at me?"_

" _You think this is about_ you _?"_ Megatron demanded. _"I didn't think you were_ that _conceited. Well, I suppose it's partly about you. You and your Council. But no matter. I commed you to offer you a chance. Surrender, and I won't slaughter all of your soldiers."_

Orion didn't respond.

" _Surely you can't imagine that you'll win. I have you outmaneuvered. You have two choices. You can surrender, or you can watch all of your mecha offline."_

Orion looked at the screens.

" _I'm not planning on taking any prisoners this orn."_

" _And if I surrender? You'll stand down and let them go?"_

" _Naturally."_

" _Will you give me your word?"_

Megatron just laughed again.

" _And if you did,"_ Orion said. _"I wouldn't believe you."_

" _That's right."_

So it had all been a trap. Megatron probably didn't care about Slaughter City. He had just wanted Orion to send his forces in.

" _Prowl?"_

" _Three breems, Prime,"_ Prowl said. _"Be patient."_

Orion stared up at the screen in front of him, spark pulsing heavily. It almost looked like they didn't have three breems before they'd be overwhelmed.

" _Are you ready to lose?"_ Megatron asked. _"I'm surprised. I thought you'd last a little longer. Taking the rest of this planet is going to be painfully easy. Almost boring."_

Three breems. That must mean Prowl had some sort of a plan, right?

" _Are you going to surrender? We can start working on some terms."_

Orion stared at the screens, trying to see some sort of pattern, but he really couldn't.

" _You'd better hurry or it will be over before we even start negotiating."_

" _Prowl, could you use some help from the citizens?"_ Elita asked over the group comm. _"We're getting a lot of mecha in the city who want to help. They don't all have weapons, though."_

" _Orion!"_ Megatron's patience seemed to be running out.

" _I will not surrender at this time,"_ Orion said. _"It was good to speak with you, though. We miss you here. If you ever change your mind, you'll be welcome back in Autobot…"_

Megatron cut the comm.

Orion sighed, glad that had worked, but also a little sorrowful. A small part of him really did wish Megatronus would join him again. But he had more important things to worry about right now.

" _Yes, we can use them, but not yet…"_ Prowl sounded stressed. _"Ironhide isn't listening to me. He's going to get himself killed if he doesn't get back where he's supposed to be."_

Great. Orion opened up a private comm. with the commander. _"Ironhide, what are you doing?"_

" _Trying not to get us all offlined."_

" _You have to do what Prowl says."_

" _That slagging enforcer doesn't know what the pit he's doing!"_

" _Yes he does. Do what he tells you to."_

" _I'm the one with experience here. He's leading us into a trap. He's going to get all of my mecha offlined!"_

" _If you can't trust him, we're going to lose this fight and if we lose here, we've lost the entire war! Do what he says! Now!"_

" _Prime…"_

" _Whether or not you trust Prowl, do you trust_ me _?"_

" _Gah! Fine!"_

Orion took in a deep vent. He was shaking.

" _Thank you, Orion,"_ Prowl said.

Orion watched on the screens as most of the little pockets of Autobots throughout the sector were surrounded, chased into tight corners, and blocked off.

The three breem mark came and went.

Nothing changed.

Most of the groups of Autobots stayed where they were, though a few were still apparently being chased. Orion watched them as time crept by, until none of the Autobot soldiers were traveling.

"Primus beneath," Mainspring said, and Orion glanced over at him to see him staring at the screen. "How did he…"

Chromia spoke over the group comm. _"Um…"_ she said. _"Don't know how to tell you all this, but the estimated casualty report for the past five breems was… three, so the total casualty estimate is still right where it was before, in the mid five hundreds."_

" _Wait, what_ _?"_ Elita asked.

" _Three casualties in the last five breems,"_ Chromia repeated. _"And only one confirmed offline. No, make that five, a couple of injured mecha offlined in triage."_

" _Elita,"_ Prowl said. _"If the Slaughter City civilians want to help, I'm going to need their individual comm. codes."_

" _You don't want them to make groups?"_ Elita said, sounding slightly dazed. _"You can't comm. all of them at once."_

" _Would you kindly refrain from telling me how to do my job?"_

Silence fell over the comm. for an astrosecond, and then Prowl spoke again.

" _Perfect. Thank you."_

"So," Mirage whispered from the other side of Mainspring. "What's going on?"

"They all must be in places the 'Cons can't get ta them," Jazz muttered. "Hey, Mainspring, how do we know where all the 'Con soldiers are?"

"It's not as reliable," Mainspring said. "But we have cameras, and multiple mecha helping to update the maps."

Hundreds of yellow dots suddenly appeared on the map. Orion watched as they flowed together, congregating off to one side of the conflict, forming a heavy wall between the fight and the place where Ratchet and the other medics were set up. The purple dots near most of the Autobot groups had backed away or blinked out.

Orion saw it right before it happened.

Suddenly, pockets of Autobots were in motion again, flowing together into the empty streets to form one solid, concentrated line, chasing the already retreating and disorganized Decepticons toward the yellow wall, which had broken up into more of a yellow lattice, spreading in a wide band across several blocks.

Orion could barely keep up with what was happening on the screen.

Prowl commed him privately, and he answered.

" _The Decepticons are probably going to mount a full-scale retreat in less than a breem. Should I let them go, or should we trap them? I can break them up into enough pockets that Megatron won't be able to groundbridge them all out, but it will mean more casualties on both sides."_

" _Let them go then,"_ Orion said. There had been enough fighting for one orn. _"Don't offline anyone you don't have to. We can take prisoners if anyone is left behind."_

" _Yes, Sir."_ Prowl said, and closed the channel.

Orion watched as the Decepticons were chased into the mass of civilians, who came out from behind buildings and surged into the streets.

The Decepticons didn't even seem to fight them, just turned and ran the only direction left to them. Prowl had groups of Autobots and citizens ambush them, herding them into a tight crowd in a massive public park.

Then Prowl spoke over the comm. _"The Decepticons have opened groundbridges. They're retreating."_

Orion vented a sigh of relief.

" _Do you want me to let everyone know?"_ Red Alert asked.

" _Yes,"_ Orion said.

A moment later, a cheer swept the room, and Orion watched as the crowd of purple dots on the map got smaller and smaller and finally disappeared.

Mecha cheered again at that, but Orion barely heard them.

They had won.

" _The Slaughter City Council wants to put up a groundbridge shield over the entire city-state to prevent the Decepticons from coming back,"_ Elita said.

" _Good,"_ Prowl replied. _"Tell her to go ahead."_

" _You can't do that!"_ Ratchet insisted. _"We need to transport injured mecha back to Iacon."_

" _Can they put the shield up just over the central sector?"_ Prowl asked. _"The edge of the entire city-state would be a bit of a drive for our soldiers, but they can be back in less than half a joor if they only have to drive out of the sector."_

" _I'll ask,"_ Elita said.

They had won. Primus, had that really just happened? It had been so fast. He checked his internal timepiece and found it had been longer than he'd thought. More than two joors since the beginning of the battle.

He looked over at Prowl, who sat still as a statue, with his optics un-shuttered, but also dark.

" _Prowl?"_ he asked over the group comm.

" _What?"_ Prowl replied. _"Can you_ _shut everyone up?"_

Orion stood and turned to face the room. He hadn't realized there were so many mecha here. Everyone was talking, laughing, crying.

"All right!" Orion said, raising his hand for quiet. After a few moments, the noise died down and he continued. "We aren't done yet. We have to get everymech home. Many of our soldiers have been injured or offlined, and we have a long orn of work ahead of us."

He didn't want to know how many they lost. He hoped Chromia's estimates were higher than reality. They only had about five thousand soldiers, so they'd lost more than a tenth of their forces for certain.

"Way to kill the party," Moonracer grumbled.

Orion commed Ratchet. _"How are things going?"_

" _How do you fragging think? Do you have to get mecha hurt like this?"_

" _I'm sorry,"_ Orion said.

" _It isn't your fault. Just don't distract me. And if you can send me more medics, that would be appreciated, since we won't be able to shuttle anyone to Iacon as soon as that groundbridge shield goes up."_

" _It's going to be a breem or two,"_ Elita said. _"The shield takes a lot of power."_

" _Then let's bring some of our mecha home while we can,"_ Prowl said. _"Prime, are we good to activate the groundbridges?"_

" _Yes,"_ Orion said.

The screen went dark, so he couldn't watch as mecha disappeared from Slaughter City. But he heard reports over the comms. Prowl was organizing their return—bringing some home, leaving others. Mecha with injuries returned to Iacon, and the rest stayed behind to sweep the streets, looking for the offline and injured. More reports started coming in. Once everything had settled down, hopefully they would know how many of the mecha who had stopped responding to their comms were offline, and how many were just unconscious.

They would need to have a meeting. Primus, it was still the middle of the off-cycle. There were still about six more joors before the sun dome would come on.

Prowl's optics came back online and he slumped forward slightly in his seat with a sigh.

"Prowl?" Orion asked.

Prowl looked up at Orion. His doorwings drooped in exhaustion, but he smirked. "I told you we would win."

"I shouldn't have doubted you," Orion said. "Though… I'm not sure how you did it."

Prowl sat up straight again. "I'll explain it later. I'm still helping with clean-up now."

Orion nodded. Elita commed him to let him know the Grand Councilfemme wanted to talk to him again, so he accepted the comm. and brushed off her thanks before talking to her about repairing damages to her city that had been caused by the fight, as well as dealing with the injured Decepticons who had been left behind in the retreat. They spoke for nearly ten breems before Orion passed her back to Elita.

The elevator door opened and Ironhide came in. Chromia got up and went over to meet him, but he ignored her and made a beeline for Prowl. Before Orion recognized what was happening, Ironhide grabbed the Praxian by the back of the neck and attempted to throw him to the ground. Prowl twisted out of his grasp and backed away, but made no further attempt to defend himself as Ironhide rushed toward him.

"'Hide!" Chromia said.

"Ironhide!" Orion tried to get in between them, but he wasn't fast enough. Ironhide slammed Prowl against the wall where the map had been projected. "Ironhide!" Orion said again, amid shocked exclamations from everyone else in the room.

"You got half of the unit I was in _offlined!_ " Ironhide growled.

"Ironhide, let him go," Orion said.

"What the pit is going on?"

"'Hide, stop it."

"You slagging fool." Ironhide said. "You let us walk into an obvious trap! I told you." His grip tightened around Prowl's neck and the Praxian winced, but didn't say anything.

"Hide, what the frag!"

"Let him go."

Other mecha moved forward, but Orion put up a hand to hold them back and approached on his own. Ironhide could seriously damage Prowl in that position, and he didn't want anyone to provoke him further.

"Don't you get involved," Ironhide growled. "I'll talk to you later, Prime."

"Think about what you're doing," Orion asked calmly. "The battle's over."

Ironhide's optics narrowed.

"He's not fighting back. He's not running away. If you have something to say to him, you can do it without physically harming him. Let him go. That's an order."

Ironhide held his position for another astrosecond but then the anger seemed to drain out of him and he let go and took a step back. Prowl shuttered his optics and sank to one knee, venting hard.

"What the pit was that for?" Chromia said, coming to stand in between her sparkmate and Prowl.

"You should have been there to see it," Ironhide said. "He was deliberately putting us in danger."

"You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Chromia snapped. "We would have lost without him. And now you've come and made quite the spectacle of yourself."

"Why are you taking his side?" Ironhide growled.

"I don't care about Prowl, but _you_ need to learn to control your temper."

"Control my _temper?_ " Ironhide demanded. "Mecha offlined!"

"Yeah," Chromia said. "A whole fragging lot _less_ mecha offlined than _could_ have. Just calm the frag down!"

Ironhide glared at her for a moment, then turned and stormed from the room.

Silence fell as everyone watched him disappear down the hall. Then Orion heard mecha turning away again, probably returning to their comms with Slaughter City, apologizing for the momentary break in communications.

Orion looked back at Prowl. "Are you all right?"

Prowl got slowly to his pedes. "Yes," he said, though his voice was staticky. "Fine."

"Okay." Orion wasn't quite convinced.

He looked down the hall again. He should go talk to Ironhide, but it might be better to give the mech a few breems to calm down first. He commed Elita instead, to ask what else he could do to help with clean-up in Slaughter City.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Yay, first real battle. Not that there was much in-scene fighting.

2\. Someone in a comment asked about the whole randomly switching to 1st person when we're in Soundwave's point of view. I know it's weird and I'm sorry, I just have a hard time writing him in third person for some reason so it's going to have to be that way.

3\. There have been a few spare parts chapters over the past few weeks pertaining to recent events. Chapters 28 and 29 are scenes with Jazz, and chapter 30 is about Elita going to talk to Yoketron in response to his message in the end of the previous chapter.

4\. Thanks for reading!


	25. Positions

"What _happened_?" Megatron raged.

I didn't look up from my computer console as I skimmed through footage from the battle.

"We lost," Blackangle deadpanned. _He called me in here just to yell at me, didn't he?_

Megatron rounded on him. " _How_ did we _lose?" h_ e demanded. "We outnumbered them by more than ten to one." _This mech had better have an explanation._

Blackangle took a step back to stand between his bodyguards, arms crossed defensively. "Why are you asking me? I'm no battle strategist. Something weird happened, and the Autobots got the upper hand all of a sudden, that's all. It could have been a fluke." _I'm just as baffled as he is, really. It seems impossible. It was like suddenly we couldn't touch them. Like Primus himself was protecting them…_

"I let _your_ mecha direct my army." Megatron growled. "And they couldn't even defeat a handful of untrained factory workers!"

"I'm telling you, it was some sort of weird fluke," Blackangle said. "There was a point where we had them all cornered, but somehow they got lucky and turned the tide." _All at once? Everywhere they were cornered? That… frag, I really don't know what happened._

"Maybe if you had put _me_ in command…" Starscream drawled from his position off to the side of the room. He'd slipped in shortly after Blackangle and was very pleased with how the conversation had been going so far. He didn't care that we'd lost. In fact, he was ecstatic that Blackangle had failed.

"You couldn't command a trained symbiot," Blackangle snapped at Starscream. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Aren't I one of Megatron's advisers as well?" Starscream scowled. _I hate that. I should be his chief adviser, not just_ one _of his advisers._

"Starscream, get out!" Megatron shouted, pointing at the door.

"But Lord Megatron…"

"Unless you can tell me exactly why we lost."

 _Well, it's obvious,_ Starscream thought. "The Autobots all maneuvered themselves into defensible positions," he said. "And your idiot soldiers just threw themselves at the enemy with no thought for strategy. You should have attacked from above. If we had seekers in the army, we could have bombed them out, but even without seekers, you should have thought to use your… what do you call groundpounders with wings?"

Megatron turned to look at Blackangle.

I backed up the recording and watched the battle unfold again on my computer screen, paying attention to where the scattered groups of Autobots moved. It had looked like they were fleeing from our soldiers, but maybe each group had had a specific destination.

"We… thought it would be an easy battle," Blackangle said. "I can talk to my mecha about that, though."

"Your mecha?" Starscream sneered. "And who are they? Crooks? Gutter scrap? What would _they_ know of strategy? _I_ was trained in the Vos Academy of Defense, and was only denied a position in the Vosian Armada because—"

"That's enough!" Megatron said. "Both of you be silent or get _out!_ "

The echo of his shouting died into silence. Well, silence for everyone else at least.

 _How_ dare _he order me around like some common idiot. I just answered his question!_

 _Primus, how long do I have to put up with this? Maybe I should accelerate my plans to get rid of this gladiator._

 _Soundwave, please tell me you can explain why we lost…_

Finally, I looked up from my computer console. As much as I hated to admit it… "Starscream is correct," I said.

 _Of course I am._

"But how?" Megatron demanded. "Weren't the Autobots retreating? How did they all find defensible positions?"

Well, that wasn't difficult to guess. "Prowl."

Megatron's optics narrowed. "The Praxian?" he said. _The irritating little enforcer? Really?_

I nodded. He had beaten me at a strategy board game while I was listening to his thoughts. I was pretty sure he was behind the Autobots' miraculous victory.

"Do you think he could do something like that again?" Megatron said. "Or if we were more prepared, could we win next time?"

I tilted my helm to the side.

"Maybe if you put someone else in charge of strategy…" Starscream said. _My brothers and I could do_ much _better than the Quantum goons._

"Prowl may still win," I said. "E-even if we prepare."

Megatron scowled. "Very well." _We'll have to get rid of him then._ "Blackangle."

"Yes?"

"I want Prowl offline. Can you make that happen?"

"Well…" Blackangle said.

"What good are you to me?" Megatron growled. "You're the leader of the largest organized crime cell on the planet and you can't even have _one_ mech assassinated?"

"I didn't say I couldn't," Blackangle said. "In fact, it shouldn't be too much trouble. But it might take a while. They're staying in a noblemech's neighborhood, and the security over there is ridiculous."

"I want Prowl offline before we attack another city," Megatron said. _We can't have a mech who can pull off that sort of trick working for the Autobots._

"I have one mech on the inside," Blackangle said. "But if he kills Prowl, he's probably going to have to blow his cover."

"I've had enough of your excuses," Megatron said. "Have your mech kill that Praxian or next time we have a battle, I'll send you to the front lines, along with everyone in your organization."

"Very well," Blackangle said. "I'll pass the order along." _He's not going to like it, but he'll do what he's told._

"And Soundwave," Megatron said. "See if you can put together some sort of tactical team. Apparently, Blackangle's mecha don't know what they're doing."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure exactly how he expected me to do that.

"Next time," Megatron growled. "We will not lose."

Blackangle nodded once, and Starscream crossed his arms, still upset that Megatron hadn't picked up on his not-so-subtle hints that he wanted to be in charge of coordinating the next battle.

"You're all dismissed," Megatron said. _You too, Soundwave._ "Get out. I need some time to think."

Blackangle and his mecha filed out, followed by Starscream.

I got up from my computer console and headed for the door too. I ought to spend some time with my symbiots anyway… and I should probably talk to Breeze as well.

* * *

Orion sat behind his desk, looking over reports, messages, and lists in preparation for the meeting that would start in fifteen breems.

He had gone looking for Ironhide, but the mech had shut himself in his room, and apparently didn't want to talk. Orion could only hope he came to the meeting.

Someone knocked lightly on his office door, and Orion looked up. "Come in."

Maybe Ironhide had changed his mind and decided to come talk to him. Orion was worried—he had never seen his friend lose his temper like that and actually _hurt_ someone.

But when the door opened, it wasn't Ironhide. It was Prowl.

"Prime, may I speak with you for a breem before the debriefing?"

"Of course." Orion said, beckoning him into the office. "Sit down. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," Prowl said as he sat. "I'm fine, just tired. But I wanted to talk to you…" He looked down.

"What?"

"I don't know if I can do this," Prowl said quietly. "We almost lost. Too many mecha panicked or didn't listen to me… I was afraid this would happen."

"Prowl…"

"Mecha don't trust me. I'm just not… I'm just not good enough at getting them to trust me, and if they can't trust me I'll be more harm than help."

Orion frowned. "Prowl, we owe the victory this orn to you."

"I know," Prowl said. "That's the problem. I don't think you can replace me. Granted, most of my strategies involve cheap tricks and upgrades, but…"

Orion shook his helm. "Ironhide was angry, and overheated from the battle. He was just upset that his mecha got hurt and he wanted to take it out on someone. It wasn't your fault."

"But it was, in a way," Prowl said. "If he considered me trustworthy, we wouldn't have lost so many of them. I couldn't convince him I wasn't leading him into a trap, and I didn't ask for your help until it was almost too late."

Orion stared at him.

"And I know you might say that makes it Ironhide's fault," Prowl said. "But I can't _do_ anything about it if it's his problem. I can't fix it. I just…"

"Can you show what happened in the meeting?"

Prowl nodded.

"Show him that you weren't leading him into a trap. Don't call him out, but explain the way your strategy worked. Ironhide is a good mech, and I believe he's humble enough to accept it when he's wrong."

Prowl looked down.

Silence fell. Orion let it stretch out, waiting for Prowl to speak.

"It doesn't bring them back."

Orion blinked. He didn't know what to say.

"I killed so many mecha this orn. I could have…" Prowl shuttered his optics. "I could have saved half of the ones who offlined… I didn't take everything into account and they didn't…." He trailed off, burying his faceplate in his hands. Orion had never seen this much emotion from him.

He wasn't really sure how to respond to this.

After a few astrosecond, Prowl took in a deep vent and put his hands down. "Sorry," he said.

"None of us wanted this war," Orion said. "But I think we have to fight it."

"I know," Prowl looked embarrassed now. "And I'm sorry for falling apart like that. I guess I just didn't realize what it would be like to direct actual soldiers."

Orion looked down. He hadn't contributed much to the battle. "I'm sorry I couldn't help more. Maybe next time…"

"You're not a strategist," Prowl said matter-of-factly. "Stick with what you're good at and let me worry about my job."

Orion frowned. "All right."

Prowl looked embarrassed again.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"No," Prowl said. "Again, I'm sorry. I don't know why I just… I still do think it's a problem that mecha don't trust me. And I'm not sure what to do about it. But I really don't have time to even worry about it because the next few orns... never mind. I'll see you at the meeting."

He stood, and Orion watched him leave the room. When the door closed behind Prowl, Orion sighed, looking down at the datapads strewn across his desk. What were they doing? What had he been thinking? He couldn't lead an army. He was an archivist—just an archivist, with less than twenty vorns of experience to draw from. And half of his command element were almost as young as he was.

Prowl was right. The Autobots were partly responsible for the deaths this orn. If Orion could, he'd go back in time and tell his younger self to leave things as they were. Leave Megatronus in Kaon, leave everything like it had been.

But he couldn't. And maybe he shouldn't. The Council had been—and still was—corrupt. And someone had needed to stand up and do something about it. He just wished it hadn't been him.

Orion shook his helm to clear it, and got back to work. He skimmed the list of mecha who were invited to the meeting, and realized one of them was probably still in Slaughter City.

He took a deep vent and commed Ratchet.

 _"Yes?"_

"Hello," Orion said. "We need you to come back here for a joor or so."

 _"For what? One of you didn't get themselves hurt, did they?"_

"No. We're having a meeting."

 _"A meeting?"_

"Yes."

 _"No."_

"Ratchet…"

 _"I am not going to some meeting when there are mecha offlining out here. I am busy."_

"It's important that everyone be here. We can't set the precedent of letting anymech skip out on—"

 _"I repeat, I will not come back for any reason that is less important than what I'm doing right now. Goodbye."_

"Ratchet!"

He cut the comm. Orion had to try several times before Ratchet would talk to him.

"Please," Orion said. "I don't have the time or the energy to argue with you. We're having a meeting. By accepting your position in the army, you agreed to listen to me. You can't be in charge of the medical department if you won't show up to meetings. I know we're all new at this, but that's how it has to work. I'll excuse you as soon as possible, probably before the meeting is over, but I need you to come, all right?"

There was silence on the other end. Orion waited.

 _"Slag you, Orion,"_ Ratchet hung up gain.

Did that mean he was coming?

Orion made a few more comms, and then dragged himself to his pedes and headed to the main room where everyone would gather in a few breems. He wasn't sure whether he'd make it through the whole orn or collapse halfway through. It wasn't even technically the on-cycle yet, was it?

Ironhide showed up to the meeting, thankfully. He didn't look so angry anymore, but he also didn't seem to want to talk, so Orion let him be. Ratchet showed up right as they were ready to start.

There was a quiet, somber atmosphere in the room, and Orion didn't even need to call everyone to order. He asked Chromia to start with the current death count and expended resources. The numbers were high enough to fill the room with even thicker silence. This had been very different from the evacuation of Tarn.

Then Elita gave a report about civilian damages as well as the effect of this battle on the relationship with the city. After that, Orion talked for a few breems about the next steps and the clean-up process and gave out a few assignments before letting some of the mecha, such as Ratchet, leave.

Then Prowl, now as composed as ever, took the floor. He started to outline the happenings of the battle. He explained what was obviously a simplified version of his plan, and why it had worked. It had been risky-he'd been relying on the fact that Megatron's army had never met with any sort of organized resistance before. But it had been brilliant, at the same time, and had proved effective. Orion watched Ironhide's faceplate as Prowl pointed out in a cool, emotionless fashion what had happened and what _would_ have happened if everyone had followed his orders. Ironhide shifted uncomfortably a few times, but didn't look appeased. Orion would have to try to talk to him again afterward.

Prowl finished by showing how he'd re-consolidated the Autobot troops and made use of the Slaughter City civilians to force the Deception retreat. When he was done, he called for questions.

Chromia crossed her arms. "How the pit did you know where to put everyone?"

Prowl nodded, but Chromia cut him off before he could speak again.

"I mean," she said. "You'd have needed to go to the city and stake it out or something."

Prowl looked across the table.

Mainspring nodded. "We took care of that. We've been sending mecha to most of the more susceptible cities, to study their layouts and look for defensible positions."

"Oh," Chromia said. "Why weren't we made aware of that?"

"It didn't come up," Jazz said. "And we didn't want ta spread it around a lot. If the 'Cons had found out, we'd never have pulled it off, because they'd have been expecting it."

"Well, if we'd known," Ironhide said. "We'd never have lost so many mecha. How are we supposed to follow a plan if we don't know what it is?"

"Ain't ya supposed ta just follow orders during a battle?" Jazz asked. "I'm pretty sure that's how it works, mech."

Ironhide narrowed his optics.

"Are there any other questions?" Orion asked, trying to avert the argument before it developed further.

Mainspring raised a hand.

"Yes?" Prowl said.

"This is a question for you, Prime." Mainspring said. "And Ironhide, don't take this personally—you weren't the only one. But there seem to have been several mecha and units who disobeyed orders out on the field. A lot of that was probably because of inexperience, but as we've seen, things would have gone a lot better had everyone followed orders. I don't think it would be wise to ignore what has happened."

Orion frowned. "You want me to punish mecha for disobeying orders."

"If we had lost this orn, then the war would be over," Mainspring said. "And I'm sure Megatron will be more careful next time. Our army needs to have the edge in competency if we want to survive the next several battles."

Orion nodded. He was right. "I will definitely consider that. Thank you, Mainspring."

There were a few other questions, concerns, and reports, then more assignments made, and finally the meeting was over. Orion had a lot to do. He probably only had a joor or so before the city woke up and he would need to talk to the media about the battle.

He also had to go see Yoketron this orn. He wasn't sure if he was going to make that one… no. He'd make time. It would be a good break from the rest of his duties.

* * *

Breeze's comm beeped, and she froze when she realized who it was from.

Soundwave.

Soundwave was comming her over an internal frequency.

She got up from her seat. Keepsake and Cam were still watching the news, listening to reports from Slaughter city, and they didn't seem to notice as she headed for the hall. Blaster glanced her way, though.

Maybe she shouldn't talk to Soundwave with the mechling listening in. She smiled at him, and changed directions, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Keepsake asked.

"I… need to go for a drive," Breeze said. "I'll be back soon."

She answered the comm. as she left her house, and transformed so she could drive away and get out of range of Blaster. _"Hello? Soundwave?"_

" _Hi."_

" _Primus, are you all right? I heard about Slaughter City."_

" _I'm fine,"_ Soundwave said. _"I wasn't there."_

" _Well, I know, but…"_

More than five thousand mecha had offlined—mostly Decepticons. Megatron had attacked city-states before, but this had been different.

" _But what?"_

His simulated voice sounded almost annoyed.

" _Never mind,"_ she said. _"How are you in general? I know you went with the Decepticons because of Searchlight, but can you really justify what he's—"_

" _Look,"_ he cut her off. _"Megatron…"_

Breeze waited, slowing down at the corner, and turning, habitually driving toward her work, even though she had the orn off.

" _He still wants to make the world better. He's just forgotten how. And… he doesn't listen to me like… like he used to."_

Like Searchlight used to. Breeze pulled off to the side of the road and transformed again, then walked over to a bench outside the nearest building and sat down. She needed to devote all of her attention to this conversation.

" _Some of the things he's doing…"_ Soundwave continued, _"Are almost as bad as…"_

" _I'm sorry,"_ Breeze said. _"Maybe… I know it's not my place to say it, but maybe you should leave."_

" _I can't,"_ Soundwave said. _"He's in more trouble than he's ever been in before. All the mecha around him are plotting to kill him or overthrow him. If I leave, he'll offline."_

Breeze looked down.

" _Please don't ask me to leave."_

" _Does he know they're plotting against him?"_

" _Yes, but he's relying on me to keep him safe."_

Right. He knew about Soundwave's abilities. Suddenly, that made Breeze very uneasy. Searchlight had often pestered Soundwave to help him cheat at cards or find out what other mecha thought about him. But that was all relatively innocent, and he'd never forced the issue.

Megatron was a lot more forceful and seemed to care a lot less how other mecha felt about things.

" _Does he ask you to do things you're not comfortable with?"_

Soundwave didn't answer for a few astroseconds.

" _Soundwave?"_

" _He doesn't,"_ Soundwave said. _"I mean, a little, but…"_

" _That really doesn't sound like a good situation."_

" _But I can't leave. Do you really want me to leave him here to die?"_

" _No,"_ Breeze admitted. _"But… Oh, Soundwave, I just think…"_ Searchlight wouldn't be doing the things Megatron was doing. Searchlight wouldn't want Soundwave to be in that situation. And Breeze was worried—if Soundwave chose to stay, she might lose him too. She'd already lost more than she wanted to think about. _"I'm just worried about you."_

" _I'm fine,"_ Soundwave said. _"And I'm not leaving. Is that all you wanted to talk about?"_

" _Wait,"_ Breeze sighed. _"There is something else. Something we might be able to do about the whole situation. But… it might take a while—it might not even be possible—and I didn't want to ask you to stay there and wait on a maybe, if I could talk you into coming back."_

" _What?"_ Soundwave asked.

Breeze hesitated. There were so many reasons not to tell him, but…

Maybe he deserved to know.

" _A while back… I read something. It was an academic paper. It… it mentioned some sort of procedure that could restore missing memories."_

She didn't expect him to say anything in response to that. He didn't.

" _The problem is…"_ she continued. _"I haven't been able to find anything else about it and I've never seen it mentioned anywhere else. It was only mentioned in passing in the paper I found it in, and I'm pretty sure the author was quoting someone, but I'm not sure who because some of the references had been edited out. And I tried contacting the authors of the paper, but only one of them responded, and she just said she didn't know anything about the procedure, and that one of her colleagues had been the one to write that section. I don't even know what the procedure is_ called, _so I'm not sure what to look for. But it's a hope. If we could find a way to restore Searchlight's memories…"_

Soundwave was still silent.

" _Everything would be better,"_ Breeze said. _"He'd stop killing, and we could avoid this awful war, and… and we could bring him back, Soundwave. We could have Searchlight back."_

There were a few more astroseconds of silence, and then the comm. line went dead. Soundwave had ended it.

Breeze lowered her helm. In some ways, a little bit of hope was more painful than none—she knew that. That was why she hadn't wanted to tell him about it before.

But he knew now.

She should go home and write up a message explaining a little more about what she'd found and where she'd looked. If it really _was_ possible to restore missing memories, then there should be at least _some_ record of it. And if she could find that, then she could prevent the war and solve everything.

But if she couldn't find it, or if it didn't exist, she'd probably just sealed Soundwave's fate. He would never leave, not if there was a chance he could really and truly get Searchlight back.

* * *

What Chromia would really like to do was go find Ironhide, and talk to him, but she wasn't sure what to say. Fixing emotional problems, and encouraging mecha had never been her strong suite.

She could feel his pain over the bond though—shame, anger, grief. It had been very apparent at the meeting that not only could Ironhide have prevented his mecha from offlining, but if he had encouraged the other units to listen to Prowl instead of being skeptical, their casualties would have been significantly lower.

She really didn't know how to help with that, though. He'd been wrong, and he had to deal with it.

All the negative emotions on the bond were distracting her from her work, so maybe she could use that as an excuse to take a break and go talk to him, but she wasn't sure what to say. She'd probably just make things worse.

She stared blankly at her computer screen, trying to figure out what to do.

"…not sure why you're still going, though." Moonracer's voice said, as she and Elita came in. Chromia glanced up at them.

"Because I said I would," Elita replied matter-of-factly.

Chromia narrowed her optics. That tone was suspicious.

Actually, Elita had been acting weird for decaorns.

"But I don't want to deal with battle clean up and all of the stupid press and everything on my own!" Moonracer said. "You can just send someone else."

"What's going on?" Chromia asked.

"She's going on a stupid trip across the entire planet," Moonracer said.

"This orn?" Chromia asked.

"Early next orn," Elita replied. "And I'm going, Moonracer."

"What's so important about it?" Chromia asked.

"How is Ironhide, by the way?" Elita replied. "He was really… quiet at the meeting."

"He's having a rough orn, as I'm sure you could guess. Don't change the subject. Why are you going on a trip anyway?"

"I told you two orns ago, I set up a meeting with the Simfur Council because they expressed interest in allying with us, or at least offering us some help with resources."

"Yeah, but why are _you_ going?"

"They wanted to talk to a representative," Elita said. "Why is this such a problem?"

"Because you tried to change the subject," Chromia said, glaring at her sister.

Elita crossed her arms. "Look…"

"That _is_ weird," Moonracer said. "What is up with you lately, Ellie? You've been acting all… I don't know, weird."

"Weird?" Elita raised an optic ridge.

"Like you're hiding something," Moonracer said.

"And what exactly would I be hiding?" Elita asked lightly, arms still crossed.

She was definitely hiding something. "Are you going to tell us what it is?" Chromia asked. "Moonracer's right, you've been acting different lately—it's not that hard to tell."

"I don't know what…" Elita said, then met Chromia's optics and sighed, glancing around the room full of mecha working at computers. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Chromia got an internal group comm. invite from her, and joined.

" _So there_ is _something?"_ she said.

" _Yes,"_ Elita told her. _"But I can't tell you—not yet, at least. When I come back from my trip, the three of us can talk about it. Hopefully... but it will have to be a secret, so please let it go for now."_

" _What the frag?"_ Moonracer asked. _"What kind of secret?"_

" _I said please drop it,"_ Elita's tone, even over the internal comm. was very serious.

" _Okay,"_ Chromia said. _"But you'd better tell us eventually."_

" _I will,"_ Elita promised.

"Fine," Chromia said out loud, and got up from her desk, shutting down her computer.

"Where are you going?" Moonracer asked.

"To go check on Ironhide," she said. She still didn't know what she would say to him, but he was still very upset, and she had to at least try to talk to him.

* * *

Prowl looked up at the entry request. Not something else. His doorwings twitched in annoyance and he winced. Getting slammed against the wall was never fun. He hit a button on the desk and the door opened. Jazz walked in.

"Yes?" Prowl said.

"I sent you a message," Jazz said. "I'm tryin' ta put together, like, a celebration in honor of winning this orn."

"I gathered that from your message," Prowl said. "Unless Orion makes attendance mandatory, which I doubt he will, I'm definitely not going."

Jazz frowned. "Yeah, you and pretty much the whole command element."

"Yes," Prowl said. "Because we have to clean up from a battle." And spending time with a large group of loud, overcharged soldiers didn't exactly sound like Prowl's idea of a good time. There wasn't really any cause for celebration either. Prowl didn't even want to think about how many mecha he'd gotten offlined.

"Come on," Jazz came over and sat across from him. "Everymech else is taking a break."

"Except for Red Alert, Ratchet, Mainspring, the Prime, Ironhide, Elita One, and myself," Prowl said. "Am I correct?"

Jazz shook his helm. "I talked Mainspring into coming."

"Oh," Prowl said. "Guess I gave him too much credit."

Jazz smirked. "Ya don't mean that."

"No," Prowl said. "Look, I don't have time to talk to you. If you don't have anything important to say..."

"Mech, I'm just inviting… but if ya say no again, I might just have ta knock ya out and drag you."

"Really?"

Jazz shook his helm. "One more thing, though."

"Yes."

"Ya all right?"

Prowl narrowed his optics. Was that actual concern in the mech's voice? "Am I all right?"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "Ironhide's a pretty strong mech and he did slam your doorwings inta that wall pretty hard."

"I'm perfectly fine. Why do you care anyway?"

"Ya really don't know how ta make friends, do ya."

Prowl glared at him. He couldn't do this right now. He had more than enough to worry about, he didn't need some mech critiquing his social skills.

"Sorry," Jazz said. "I didn't—"

"Just go bother someone else. And just in case you're wondering, I am _not_ your friend."

"If ya say so," Jazz said. "But I still want a rematch on that board game."

"What?"

"Remember? Back before—"

"I know what you're referring to. I don't think a rematch will turn out any differently."

"By refusing my challenge, ya're suggesting ya think ya can't beat me," Jazz said, then turned to leave Prowl's office.

Prowl glared at the back of his helm, then realized something.

"Wait!"

Jazz stopped in the doorway and turned around.

"I refuse," Prowl said through gritted denta. "To be adopted as some sort of project."

Jazz grinned. "I don't know what ya're talking about."

"I don't have time for board games, and I don't care whether or not I can win them. So thank you for trying, but please just leave me alone. I have more than enough work to keep me occupied, and no time for anything else."

"Whatever ya say, Prowler." Jazz ducked out of the room.

Prowl shook his helm and went back to work. He had too much to do. He was going to have to cover for Orion as well, for the next few orns. He really wasn't sure how that was going to go, since Ironhide definitely hated him now, and he already wasn't on good terms with most of the other mecha in the command element.

* * *

"Welcome, Orion," Yoketron said with a cheerful smile. "You've had a busy orn."

"Yes," Orion said. "Is Prowl not here?"

"I gave him the orn off," Yoketron said. "I figured he'd be busy."

Orion looked down. "Honestly, I should have asked for the orn off as well. We might need to cut this short, because I should get back as soon as possible." He wanted to get the whole orn over with as soon as possible so he could recharge.

"I know," Yoketron said, smiling slightly. "And I'm sorry that battle had to happen this orn. Last orn would have been a little better. Of course, this is better than it happening next orn. That would have been terrible."

"What?" Orion said, confused. "Why would next orn have been worse for the battle?"

"Because if it had been next orn, you wouldn't have been there and _that_ would be a disaster."

Orion frowned. "I wouldn't have been there? Why? I'm… a little lost."

"That's understandable."

"Is there something I've forgotten?"

"No," Yoketron said with a mischievous glint in his optics.

"Why wouldn't I have been there next orn?"

"Because," Yoketron said in what seemed to be mock solemnity. "I am currently in the process of kidnapping you."

Orion stared at him.

"I think it's time for you to take a vacation, and since you obviously won't leave your duties without some outside encouragement..."

"Yoketron… Master Yoketron, I can't leave. I have so much to do."

"Prowl is already taking care of it. I asked him to. And I know he is more than capable of handling things on his own for a few orns."

"But the media…"

"Will have to understand just how _busy_ you are with all the battle clean-up."

Orion shook his helm. "I can't just leave them all."

"You don't have a choice," Yoketron said. "I think that's part of the definition of being kidnapped."

"Thank you very much," Orion said. "And I would love to take a break, but it wouldn't be much of a break if I'm worrying about how everyone else is doing without me."

"First of all," Yoketron said. "This is not just for fun. This is a carefully considered venture that—If I am correct and if it is successful—will help you complete your next challenge and will boost your confidence and effectiveness for the rest of your career as a Prime. Secondly, your mecha need to learn how to operate without you. They will probably have to do so many times in the future. It's good to give them a little practice now while things are just getting started. And thirdly, you are going. You can't talk me out of it. The only question that you need to answer is whether you will come quietly or whether I have to knock you out."

This was not good. "Master Yoketron…"

"Well, which will it be?"

"I'm still confused. Where are we going?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I want you to recharge on the way, and if explain the purpose of this trip to you, something makes me think that won't happen. Come, there's a transport outside waiting for us."

"That's not comforting," Orion said.

"See. Even telling you that I won't tell you is getting you all riled up. Now, come."

Orion shook his helm.

"I am more than capable of knocking you out."

"I can't! I can't leave everyone here to—"

"Don't you trust me?"

Orion met Yoketron's gaze. Then looked down.

"Believe me, this will be worth it," Yoketron said. "Now come on. We have a long transport ride ahead of us and you have some recharge to catch up on before I explain why I'm kidnapping you."

Orion followed him through the building and out to the front, where Landquake was still waiting.

Orion boarded, followed by the Circuit-Su Master.

"So…" Orion said as they sat down.

"No more questions."

"How long will this trip take?"

"I said no more questions. I will tell you once you have had some recharge, and I will also tell you where we're going and why. There will be plenty of time to talk. We have a long ride."

"If we're going far away why aren't we taking a groundbridge? Wouldn't that be faster?"

Yoketron shook his helm. "I don't want to leave any records of the trip. Now rest."

Well, it didn't seem like there was anything else to do. Orion shuttered his optics and leaned back in his seat. He really was tired, when he thought about it. Exhausted. And despite all of his questions, it wasn't difficult to drift off into recharge.


	26. The Allspark

Megatron tapped the arm of his throne, waiting.

At length, the doors of his throne room opened and the prisoner was brought in.

The mecha from the Institute had fallen into mainly four categories. Some had been completely, babblingly insane. Those had been put out of their misery. Some had been partially crazed, but still vaguely useful. These became soldiers or mine workers, depending on exactly _how_ useful they were. Then there were those who had finished shadowplay, but hadn't graduated the next stage. They were downright creepy, and Megatron wasn't sure he trusted them, but Shockwave insisted that he could finish whatever process they'd been going through to bring them back from emotional oblivion. There were only a few like Shockwave, who had stayed with Neurosis after their reprogramming was complete. They were the most useful. They all had skills that Megatron could use. They did what they were asked, and they were _good_ at it.

And then there was _this_ prisoner who didn't fit into any group. He'd only been in the Institute for a few orns, and Megatron had no idea why the Council had put him there in the first place. Megatron wasn't complaining, though. Thanks to Soundwave, this mech had provided them with some useful information about the Council _and_ the Autobots.

"So," Megatron leaned forward slightly in his throne. "Have you reconsidered your decision about whether to join my forces? We could certainly use your expertise."

"I have not," the mech deadpanned, meeting his gaze without even a hint of fear.

They knew this mech had recording devices in his helm sending information back to the Council. By all rights, Megatron ought to have him killed, but there was something intriguing about the mech's stubbornness.

And from what Megatron could gather, this was the _last_ mech the Council needed to reprogram. Why had they sent him there?

"You still claim that you are loyal to the Council?"

"I do."

Megatron raised an optic ridge. "It doesn't seem like they've been very loyal to you."

The mech didn't answer. There was no way he could claim they'd treated him fairly.

"Surely you can't condone all that they do."

Silence.

"Speak."

He was still silent. Megatron watched him carefully, waiting as the quiet stretched longer. He ran out of patience quickly. "I would appreciate it if you answered my questions," he said. "I hope you know I have plenty of reasons to kill you. You're only online still because I'm generous and I wanted to give you a chance to join me."

The prisoner didn't seem impressed.

"If you won't willingly side with me, I could always hand you over to Shockwave. He might be able to work with you, maybe help you come to new conclusions about your loyalties."

He'd had a long conversation with Shockwave the orn he'd acquired the scientist. It was obvious he was somewhat unstable, and Megatron really hadn't understood any of the science the one-opticed mech had babbled at him. In the end, he'd just given up and told Shockwave that anything helpful toward the war effort would be considered an effective use of resources.

Even this threat, though, did not elicit a reaction from the prisoner. It was too bad—Megatron could really use this mech. If rumor held, he was an experienced leader and a formidable fighter. But he was stubbornly loyal to the Council. How could _anyone_ be loyal to the Council?

"Keep in mind, this is your last chance to join with me willingly," Megatron said. "You have absolutely nothing to say?"

The other mech finally seemed to consider speaking. He frowned. Then shook his helm. "Not to the likes of you."

Megatron glared. "Fine. Take him and put him back in his cell."

The guards came to take him away, but then Megatron reconsidered, and stopped them.

"Ultra Magnus," he said. "What if the Council was gone? Who would you be loyal to then?"

The mech didn't answer.

"Well?"

"I took an oath to serve the Council," Magnus said. "I am not currently considering the possibility that they will ever be gone… but if they were, I would never again swear loyalty to a tyrant."

Megatron felt his back plating rise a little. "Take him."

The guards led the tall warrior away, and the door closed behind them. Megatron stood up, still largely confused. There was something too honest—too honorable—about Ultra Magnus. He was like the kind of mech Orion had pretended to be.

And so while Megatron ought to kill him for security reasons… he wouldn't. His own life was full of backstabbers and cowards at the moment, and it was refreshing to talk to someone once in a while who would tell him exactly what he thought.

* * *

Orion woke with a start and sat up. Where was he? He couldn't feel the transport moving… wait, yes he could, but they must be on a very smooth road. And this wasn't Landquake's interior. It was a much lighter gray and smelled different too.

Confused, he looked out the window to see that they were high above the ground. He could see the sun's bright reflection on the smooth metal plains below.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Yoketron said. "You were out longer than I expected, but I think that's a good thing. How do you feel?"

"Good," he said. He was still a little groggy, but better-rested than he'd felt in decaorns. "Where are we?"

"We just passed the Toraxxis Plains," Yoketron said. "We'll be flying just to the east of Capitol City before too long."

Orion stared. "That's… more than halfway across the planet. Where are we going?"

"Simfur."

Orion blinked. "Simfur?"

"Yes."

Orion looked out the window again. "And we're in the southern hemisphere already? How long did I recharge?"

"I think you've been out for about twenty-five joors," Yoketron said. "It will be dawn in Iacon—and Simfur for that matter—in just six more. We'll probably arrive in about seven or eight,"

Orion shook his helm. "How did we… this isn't Landquake."

"Hello!" an ambient, feminine voice said. "I'm Tradewind. It's an honor to meet you, Prime, Sir."

"And you," Orion replied to the shuttle.

"If you're curious," Yoketron said. "Landquake managed to transform around you and carry you without waking you up. He has some experience with that, since his mechling seems to have a hard time staying awake even on short drives."

"I see," Orion said, slightly embarrassed at the idea of being carried around by Landquake like a recharging sparkling.

But he had other things to worry about. "Do you know how things are going back in Iacon?"

"Last I heard, they were going well," Yoketron said. "I spoke with Prowl shortly before he turned in for the off-cycle. He wanted me to pass on a few questions for you, and he sent me some things for you to look over. I told him I'd let you deal with that when you came online again. Of course, you have plenty of time for that, since he won't need them until dawn at the earliest."

Orion nodded. "So… will you tell me now why we're going to Simfur?"

Yoketron seemed to consider that for a few astroseconds. "Tradewind?"

"Yes?" the shuttle asked brightly.

"Is it all right if you turn your audios off for a while?"

"I… sure, I guess," she said.

"I'm sorry to exclude you, but knowledge of our purpose in Simfur could prove to be very dangerous in the future, both to you and numerous other mecha."

"Don't worry," Tradewind said, sounding more serious now. "If it's none of my business, then it's none of my business. I'll turn my audios off, and then try very hard not to be curious. Comm. me when I can bring them online again."

"Thank you, Tradewind," Yoketron said, then waited a few astroseconds, but she didn't respond.

Orion watched him carefully. "I… almost feel as if I should be worried."

"First of all," Yoketron said, venting a sigh. "You must know I'm not entirely sure this will work. I don't think anyone's ever tried it before."

"Tried what?"

"Simfur is home to the temple of the Allspark," Yoketron spoke as if he hadn't heard Orion's question. "What do you know about the Allspark?"

"Well…" Orion frowned. "After Unicron was defeated, Primus created the Allspark to give life to Cybertron. It… all of us come from the Allspark, and when we offline, we return to it to exist in peace and harmony with Primus."

Yoketron nodded. "That is a fairly accurate, but extremely simplified version of things, yes. The Allspark does more than make sparklings, and maintain the afterlife, though."

Orion frowned. "What else does it do?"

"I've been around long enough to see it do _many_ things. I've seen it cure incurable diseases. I've seen it create life without protoform. The Allspark is not merely a tool of Primus's making, as is widely believed."

"Wait…" Orion said. "Primus _did_ make the Allspark though, right?"

"We're getting a little bit off the subject," Yoketron said. "The bottom line is that I think the Allspark can help you."

"You think… it can help me complete Alpha Trion's trial?"

"No," Yoketron said. "I told you I'm not tampering with the trial."

"Then what..."

"I think it might be able to heal the bond between you and Elita One."

Orion stared at him.

"At least, it's worth a try," Yoketron said.

Orion's helm spun. "I… _what?"_

"Like I said, I'm not entirely sure it will work, but I asked a friend at the temple, and he agrees that sort of thing is within the Allspark's capabilities."

Orion… could be bonded to Elita again?

He had wished, of course, more than anything else, but he hadn't thought it was actually possible. "Are you… how likely is it that it would work?"

"Quite likely," Yoketron said. "I doubt the Allspark could help a Prime create a new bond, but since you had one before you were appointed, and it was broken… you have a much better chance."

Orion shuttered his optics, overcome with emotion. Did he dare believe this?

"Orion?"

Orion took in a deep vent but found himself completely unable to speak. Yoketron let the silence stretch out for a while, before continuing.

"I've already spoken to Elita about it. She will meet us in Simfur, at which point there are things we should discuss. I've talked with her about some of the associated danger and sacrifice, but there are items I thought would be better to explain with you present."

"Wait," Orion said. "Danger?"

"If you are bonded to her, she will be a target," Yoketron said. "You will have to do your very best to keep the bond a secret or, as the war progresses, her life will be in as much jeopardy as yours—perhaps even more."

He hadn't thought about that.

"Furthermore, when you receive the Matrix, it could have a negative impact on her. It might even break the bond again, or damage her spark in some way."

Orion looked down. Maybe this wasn't right. "Master Yoketron…"

"Yes?"

He didn't want to bring it up, but he had to ask. "Isn't it… Primus's will that Primes can't bond?"

Yoketron sighed. "Oh Orion, you're too good for this world," he said. "And no. You don't understand. The inability to bond is a side effect of becoming a Prime, not some sort of commandment. If you'll recall from your history books, the Thirteen Primes ruled Cybertron in the beginning of civilization, but eventually decided to step down. Primus created the Matrix of Leadership as a way to appoint surrogate Primes to power. Bearing the Matrix requires slightly different spark and processor parameters—parameters more like those of the Thirteen. Thus, when you were appointed by Councilor Halogen, who holds the key to Vector Sigma, the quality of your spark energy changed, which broke your bond. It's as simple as that."

Orion stared at him. "So… you don't think Primus would be upset…"

"No," Yoketron said.

"But it would put Elita in danger."

"It would," Yoketron said. "And she knows that, and she wants to go forward with this anyway. I haven't told her that you'll lose your memories when you receive the Matrix, or about the trials. We should discuss all of that with her before the two of you make your final decision on the matter—"

"I don't want her to be in danger."

"I know," Yoketron said. "Keeping your re-established bond a secret will help with that. I would recommend telling as few mecha as possible. Prowl knows already. And it may be hard to keep it from Elita's sisters. Since the Decepticons have a telepath, you should avoid telling anyone who will ever be in Kaon, or on the battlefield. Oh, and be sure not to tell Alpha Trion. I really do think he'd hunt me down and offline me."

"She'd be safer if…" He couldn't bring himself to say it though. He wanted the bond back so badly. He'd been trying to force himself to get over it, trying to convince himself he was fine.

"It's very noble of you to be so concerned about her," Yoketron said. "But imagine how she would feel if you take this choice away from her in order to protect her. I've only spoken to her a few times, but I'm sure she'd rather be bonded to you and die some orn because of it, than live alone for the rest of her life—and then possibly die in the war anyway."

Orion shook his helm, not sure what to say.

"You _do_ want this, don't you?"

"Yes. I just… think I'm having a hard time believing it."

"Understandable," Yoketron said. "I'll give you some time to work through it. I should get a few joors of recharge anyway, before we land. Do you have any more questions right now, or can I let Tradewind know she can turn her audios back on?"

Orion probably had dozens of questions, but he was too stunned to think of any.

"I know this is a lot to think about and I'm sure you can understand now why I didn't want to tell you before you'd gotten some rest."

Orion nodded. "I… can't come up with any questions… I just need time."

Yoketron nodded. "Then by all means, take some time to ponder the situation. We have several joors before we reach Simfur."

Orion nodded, then looked out the window again, trying to process the idea that by the end of the orn, he might be bonded to Elita again.

* * *

Elita took in a deep vent and pressed the entry request. The home was large, and in a wealthier neighborhood, but nothing to Mirage's tower.

After a few astroseconds the door opened, revealing an unfamiliar mech.

"Good orn," he said. "Are you Elita One?"

She nodded.

"Welcome." He stepped out of the way so she could enter. "I'm Vanguard, one of Master Yoketron's former students. It's good to meet you."

"Thank you," Elita said. Yoketron was staying with former students in Iacon too. She wondered if he stayed in contact with _all_ of his former students, or if he was just close enough with them to show up uninvited and stay with them. Either way, it was impressive. There was a reason—well, many reasons—that Primus had chosen him to train Orion. "Are they…"

"Yes, they arrived just before you did. Come in, I'll bring you to them."

Elita followed him through the well-furnished hallways to a small sitting room, where Orion and Yoketron were waiting. Orion stood when she entered, and she rushed to meet him, letting him enfold her in an embrace.

"Did he tell you?" Elita asked.

"Yes," Orion released her and she stepped back. There was some sort of concern in his expression.

Elita frowned. "Is… something wrong?"

He smiled, looking embarrassed now. "Well, I'm not happy about how much danger this will put you in."

She shook her helm. "Really?"

"Also…" he was troubled again. "There are some things that I should tell you. Things that I've been keeping from you…"

"Sit down," Master Yoketron said from the side.

Elita led Orion over to a bench and they sat down next to each other. She waited expectantly, watching his faceplate as he sat and studied his hands. She'd known he was hiding something from her, and since Yoketron had suggested that re-forming their bond was possible, she'd been hoping to ask what it was afterward.

Of course, telling her beforehand was preferable.

The silence lasted for several astroseconds, until Orion finally took a deep vent and spoke.

Elita listened intently as he explained about the training for becoming a Prime, and about the fact that he'd lose memories when he received the Matrix.

When he was finished, he still wouldn't look at her.

She wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry." Orion shuttered his optics. "I… should have told you."

She put a hand on top of his. "I understand why you didn't want to." That must be so terrifying—to know you wouldn't remember… and the trials sounded awful too. Part of her wanted to be horrified and angry, but Yoketron _had_ warned her that the experience of becoming and being a Prime was difficult. "I wish you had said something, though. Then I would have understood. You could have talked to me about it."

"You aren't… upset?" Orion glanced at her.

"Well, of course I am," Elita said. "But not at _you_. Why would I be? Orion, none of this is your fault, and it sounds like there's no way around it."

Primus… he would lose his memories of working in the archives, of starting Autobot, of meeting her. He would really, truly have to leave his old life behind.

She fought back the fear, caught his gaze and smiled at him. "And if you think all of that makes me want the bond back less, that's ridiculous. I want to be with you. I want to be part of everything you do. I want to be there to support you through all of it."

He smiled as well, and she knew she'd won.

* * *

"Good orn, Optimus Prime." The High Defender of the temple bowed slightly. He was an imposing mech, painted silver and gray to match the walls. His optics burned white, like Alpha Trion's. "And Master Yoketron. Welcome back, all three of you."

"I haven't been here before," Orion said, putting an arm around Elita's shoulders.

The other mech raised an optic ridge. "You were sparked here, as were we all."

"Oh," Orion said. He supposed that was true.

The mech didn't smile, but Orion could see thinly-veiled amusement on his faceplate for a moment before his solemnity returned. "Come with me—we must speak privately."

The three of them followed him through the halls of the temple. They had come in through a back door and Yoketron had led them to a sort of office or records room and had sent one of the lower Defenders to let this mech know they had arrived.

Orion looked around as they walked. He hadn't expected this place to be so beautiful. Crystal tiles and panels adorned the walls and the floor, and more hung from the ceiling—sky blue and silver and white. There was a hush, as well, and their pedesteps were quiet, as if some of the materials in the walls absorbed sound.

There was a feeling too—peace, but also a sort of animate warmth as if the atmosphere itself was alive.

"How are you, Venture?" Yoketron asked as they walked.

"Very well," the High Defender said, glancing at Yoketron. "Busy, as always, and still enjoying life. How have you been? It seems you never come visit us unless you have some sort of unusual question or request."

"Well," Yoketron said, smiling sadly at the white and silver of the walls. "It feels a little too much like home here, if you know what I mean. And I _am_ sorry about this latest request."

"No, you're not," Venture said good-naturedly. "And I want you to know I have quite a few reservations about this."

"Noted," Yoketron said. "If things go wrong somehow, you can blame it all on me."

"Noted," Venture repeated with a smile, and touched a panel on the wall. A hidden door opened into a small room, and Venture gestured for them to enter. He stepped inside. "Please sit down."

They sat in the chairs that lined the walls of the room, but Venture remained standing. He met Orion's optics for a moment, and then looked to Elita.

"Yoketron has explained to you what the purpose of this visit is?"

Orion nodded, taking Elita's hand.

"Good," Venture said. "I do want to offer a few warnings about this, before we proceed. No Prime has ever been bonded before, but I also haven't heard of any who were bonded at the time of their appointment and had that bond break…"

"It hasn't happened," Yoketron said. "At least, not as long as I've been online. Normally the appointment is not so much of a surprise, and they have time beforehand to set their lives in order."

Venture nodded. "In any case, what we are about to attempt is something beyond the realm of anyone's experience. As such, we can't predict with any certainty what consequences or side-effects there might be. But I can share a few of the thoughts I've had as I've pondered the possibilities."

"All right," Orion said.

"First of all, there may be physical consequences, and complications later," Venture said. "Your spark, Optimus Prime, is intermediate between what it was before you were appointed and what it will be after you receive the Matrix. It is not the same as the spark of a normal mech and so, while I'm confident the Allspark can heal your bond, it is likely the bond will not be exactly the same as it was before. Furthermore, I can't predict what will happen to you, your bonded, or the bond itself when you do receive the Matrix. The bond could break again, or one or both of you could be damaged or even offlined."

"Do you think that's likely?" Yoketron asked.

"The likeliest scenario is that the bond will break a second time," Venture said. "But since no one's ever tried this…"

"If that happens," Elita said. "Could the Allspark heal it again?"

"Probably," Venture said. "Though repeated breaking and re-forming of bonds tends to weaken them."

Orion looked down. His own reservations about this were growing.

"In addition to potential physical consequences," Venture said. "Having a bond may affect your ability to act in your office."

"The situation is already affecting his ability to act in his office," Yoketron said. "He must complete the Primal Trials before he receives the Matrix and we don't have time on our side. His broken bond is hindering him. He will not have adequate time to heal spiritually enough to complete his trials before it's too late."

Venture seemed to consider that. "There is a risk, though, that this will further complicate things. Primes must put their calling before everything else, and being bonded may lead him to violate that."

"I think that's nonsense," Yoketron said.

"You _would_ think that," Venture said, then looked down and spoke softly. "Forgive me Yoketron, but if I understand correctly, you have never had a spark bond yourself, and therefore do not know what it is like."

Orion looked at Yoketron to see his Circuit-Su teacher staring calmly at the High Guardian. "Perhaps you're right," he said with a bit of an edge to his voice. "But I am not the one making this decision. It's up to them. There are risks, and dangers, as you've explained. However, I firmly believe that two sparks are stronger than one. If they are bonded, they will be able to share the burden in ways that they wouldn't otherwise. They will be able to lean on one another, and rely on one another in ways that they _couldn't_ otherwise. I don't think Optimus will have to choose between his calling and his bonded if they are working together to fulfill his responsibilities. I think it will help him focus on what's most important."

Venture nodded, and looked between Orion and Elita again. "You have heard both sides of the argument. It is time for you to make a choice."

Elita looked at Orion and he got an internal comm. request from her, which he accepted.

" _Do you think it would distract you from what you need to do if we were bonded again?"_ she asked.

He thought about that. _"I know it distracts me that we aren't, if that makes sense… I don't know. It might, but… it might help too."_

" _Good,"_ she said.

" _I still don't like the idea that it put you in danger."_

Elita looked down with a thoughtful expression.

" _What?"_

" _The thing is… This is a risk, but if we decide_ not _to do this then nothing will change. And the way things are right now… isn't working out very well."_

Orion nodded.

" _I want our bond back, but I also want to do the right thing,"_ she continued.

Orion shuttered his optics, thinking. Was this the right thing? Was this part of Primus's plan? Maybe… maybe he _wasn't_ supposed to be alone. He looked at Elita again. _"I'm terrified that it will hurt you."_

" _If we have to,"_ Elita said. _"If we're worried about it later on… we can break the bond again before you receive the Matrix. But until then…"_

" _Very well,"_ Orion said.

Elita raised both optic ridges. _"Very well?"_ she repeated. _"That's no way to propose."_

" _My apologies,"_ Orion said. _"Elita One… I love you more than life itself, and I miss you more than I words can express. Would you do me the honor of being my sparkmate once more?"_

She smiled up at him, faceplate glowing. _"Of course I will. There's nothing in this world that would make me happier."_

Orion held her gaze for a few moments, and then looked back at the High Defender. "We've made our decision."

He nodded. "I think I can guess what it is. I'll go and have them close one of the Allspark reflectors to the public so we can use it. I'll be back in a few breems." He turned and left the room.

Silence fell. Orion took a deep vent and let it out slowly. He wished he could feel whatever Elita was feeling. But he only had to wait a little longer, and that would be possible again. He glanced down at her, to see her looking over at Yoketron, who sat a few chairs down, wearing an unreadable expression.

"Yoketron?" Elita said.

He looked up.

"I… _we_ can't thank you enough."

He smiled slightly. "I'm happy for you. And I hope this works out and doesn't blow up in all of our faceplates. I think… I do think it's what Primus wants, though."

Elita looked as if she were about to say more, but then she stopped, looking down.

Orion put an arm around her and looked up at the high ceiling, thinking for a few moments before he spoke. "I didn't realize the temple would be so beautiful,"

"I'd seen pictures," Elita said. "But… there's a feeling too. Maybe it's just how quiet it is."

"No," Yoketron said. "You can feel the presence of the Allspark here. Of course, the Allspark itself is kept somewhere deep beneath the city, but the Allspark reflectors manifest its power. Its energy is almost tangible here."

Orion nodded. "I'd heard you could feel it, but I didn't expect it to be like this."

Yoketron smiled. "It's comforting, isn't it? Peaceful."

Orion nodded.

"I lived in Simfur for a very long time," Yoketron said. "I was raised here, in fact. But the older I get, the harder it is to be here for extended lengths of time."

"Why?'

"If you ever get to be my age," Yoketron said, "Which I wouldn't wish on my worst enemies by the way, you'll understand. When I was young, I wanted to live forever, but the only thing keeping me here now is my responsibility to train you. When that's over…"

Orion was alarmed. "But… I hoped you would help us. Megatron and the Decepticons…"

Yoketron shook his helm. "Maybe it's selfish of me," he said quietly. "But… I don't want to fight in another war."

Orion looked down.

"Please forgive me," Yoketron said.

"Of course," Orion said.

"Thank you."

They sat in silence for a few more astroseconds.

"So…" Elita said. "How long do you think it will be before Orion receives the Matrix?"

"A good question," Yoketron said. "Often it takes a vorn or two, but in this case, it will need to be sooner—as soon as possible, really. There is something… happening in the world. Alpha Trion has asked me not to speak of it with anyone. Time is running out, though, and it's not just about the Decepticons or the impending war…"

Orion frowned. "What sort of…"

Yoketron shook his helm. "I shouldn't have brought it up. This orn is not an orn to worry about that sort of trouble, and this place is a place of peace. I don't want to bring fear within these walls."

Orion nodded.

The door opened and the High Defender beckoned them out into the hall. "Come with me."

The three of them followed the Defender through the hallways again.

"I hope this doesn't put you too far behind on sparklings," Yoketron said.

"Not _that_ far behind," Venture said. "Though it _has_ started looking like we'll need more Allspark reflectors soon. The population of Cybertron has grown a little over the past fifty vorns or so."

"Thank you again," Yoketron said. "For being willing to do this."

"It is my honor to assist the Prime," Venture said. "And if you all truly believe this is the right thing to do, I won't contest it."

He led them through empty corridors to a place where the hallway ended in a large, ornately-carved wall. Crystals and pieces of metal were intricately connected in a circular pattern that spanned the entire face of the dead end, from floor to ceiling. Orion had never seen anything like it before. The feeling of the Allspark was so powerful here it was almost tangible.

"I have not told anyone else of your request," Venture said. "I thought it would be best to keep it a secret."

"Thank you," Yoketron said. "That was wise of you."

"However, that means the two of us will have to open the door without assistance..."

Yoketron looked up at the wall. He had a distant expression on his faceplate. "I could do it on my own," he said in a hushed voice.

The High Defender hesitated, then nodded and stepped to the side of the hallway. He beckoned for Orion and Elita to follow him and they stepped to the side as Yoketron moved to the very center of the hallway.

He stared up at the intricate circular pattern for a few astroseconds, then shifted into a resting stance and shuttered his optics. He took a deep vent, and as he let it out, he raised his arms.

There was a clicking sound, and part of the pattern on the wall shifted. Yoketron smiled. Then he took half a step forward, frame moving smoothly into another stance. The pattern on the wall shifted again. Orion watched in awe as the pieces of metal and crystal seemed to come alive, twisting and changing as Master Yoketron stepped fluidly through a series of stances.

Shafts of light burst through cracks in the pattern and illuminated hidden carvings in the hallway's crystal walls. The light grew brighter until the entire pattern folded in on itself and the wall split and swung outward like a tall set of double doors.

Yoketron lowered his arms.

Orion's optics adjusted to the light.

"Come in," the Defender said, stepping out into the center of the hallway and beckoning them all to follow him as he walked through the newly-opened entrance.

Orion followed him into a vast, cavernous room. At the center of it, hovering over a crystal pedestal was the source of the light. The feeling of the Allspark grew as they approached it. It was overloading his optics just to look at it.

"Beautiful," Elita said quietly.

"Yes," The High Defender said. "It is. Yoketron, would you close the door on your way out?"

Yoketron met his optics, then nodded and turned to leave the room. The giant doors swung shut behind him, and the pattern spun back into its original place. On this side of the door the wall was completely smooth, except for a series of grooves where pieces of the pattern interlocked.

"What I want you to do," the High Defender said. "Is sit next to each other, just in front of the Allspark reflector. I don't want you standing in case you fall over. This might not be easy on your sparks."

Orion sat and Elita sat next to him, close enough that if they reached out to each other, they could hold hands.

The Defender stood on the other side of the Allspark reflector. Orion could barely see him through the blinding light. "Now," he said. "Follow my instructions carefully."


	27. Risks

Chromia tapped one pede restlessly on the floor, waiting.

Moonracer burst into the room. "What the frag is going on? Did you feel that?"

Chromia nodded.

"What—"

"I don't know," Chromia snapped. "How should _I_ know?" Something weird had happened over the bond. Elita was pretty far away, so it was hard to figure out _what_ , but it was _something,_ and it hadn't exactly felt _good._

"Did something happen to Elita?"

"Well, she's not answering her comm. so I can't really tell you," Chromia said. It was frustrating that she couldn't tell if Elita was all right—if she was conscious, if she was hurt—sibling bonds got significantly weaker with distance, and they weren't nearly as strong as spark bonds to begin with.

"She's not answering her comm?" Moonracer said. "That's not good. Do you think this has something to do with whatever secret she's keeping from us? Or do you think something happened to her in Simfur? They could have… I don't know. They're really close to Kaon there."

"I don't know," Chromia said. "She's alive, at the very least."

Come on, Ellie, answer your comm…

"I mean, it didn't really feel like she was being attacked or anything."

Chromia shook her helm.

"I bet it's whatever she wasn't telling us. Something really weird is going on 'Yes, I'm just going to go to Simfur right after we have a battle, don't worry about it, I can't explain until I get back.' She had _better_ have a really good—"

"Shh," Chromia said as Elita finally answered her comm.

Moonracer fell silent, crossing her arms in a tense sort of way. "Is she—"

"Hey, Ellie," Chromia said.

" _Good orn,"_

"You mind telling us what the _frag_ just happened?"

" _Calm down,"_ Elita said. _"Everything's fine."_

"Don't give me that slag," Chromia said. "What did you _do_?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment, then she heard Elita sigh. _"Look, I will explain when—"_

"No. Explain now," Chromia said.

" _It's not safe to talk about it over the comm…"_

"What did you do? It felt like something was happening to your spark."

" _Like I said,"_ Elita's tone didn't suggest that anything terrible had happened. In fact, she seemed a little too cheerful. _"Everything is fine and I will explain as soon as I get home. I promise."_

The comm. line went dead.

"So…" Moonracer said.

"Well, she's not dead, and probably not in trouble," Chromia said. "Not yet, at least."

"Let me guess, she said she'd tell us when she got back."

"Yeah," Chromia narrowed her optics. Elita wasn't one to keep secrets from her sisters often, and when she did it was usually because she thought they wouldn't approve for some reason. She'd been acting different lately too… _something_ was definitely off about this whole situation.

"You want to go hunt her down?"

"Nah," Chromia said. "We've got work to do. And whatever's going on with her, we'll get it out of her when she comes back. Just wait."

* * *

Halogen listened to the mecha around him arguing.

These mecha of his were losing their edge. They squabbled and fought and proposed ways to undermine the Prime. The loss of the Institute had been a severe blow to the Council's confidence, and though they'd managed to cover it up, that didn't _help_ with their public image.

Furthermore, while the Prime's army had miraculously rebuffed the attack on Slaughter City, the Prime's popularity was decreasing as well. Some of the Councilmechs had started arguing for siding with Megatron.

Halogen's secretary entered the room, and the mech who'd been talking fell silent.

"What is it?" Halogen snapped.

"Lord Halogen, Alpha Trion has sent a message," his secretary said, holding up a datapad. A murmur filled the room. Halogen waited until it died down.

"Read it."

They hadn't seen or heard from Trion for more than a decaorn.

The secretary held up the datapad.

"Members of the Iacon Council," he read. "I regret to inform you that I am officially resigning. Other business has become more pressing, and I can no longer sit on the Council with you. However, I would like to leave you with a few last words of advice. Optimus Prime is not your enemy, and never has been. If you support him, ally with him, and follow his leadership, he will win this war and spare your lives. On the other hand, if you allow Megatron to win, then you will all offline. I suggest you take action accordingly. When the time is right, your duty will be to present him the key to Vector Sigma. If you fail to do that, then the world will certainly fall under Megatron's control. I know that you are aware of that, but I thought I'd send you one final reminder. Good luck, Halogen. You were…" the secretary hesitated, then continued. "…a good mech once, and as betrayed as I feel by your actions of the past thirty vorns, I still look back fondly on the time when we were friends. -Alpha Trion."

"Fool," a Councilmech said. "Without his presence and influence, we have no one to hold us back."

Alpha Trion was no fool.

The Council was already on the brink of internal collapse. Halogen was losing control of them. Alpha Trion's presence was a stabilizing influence. Now that he had bailed… others might follow. Some were afraid—some felt the weakening of the Council's power and thought it was pointless to try to regain their authority.

Halogen himself questioned every once in a while. The power had shifted.

He wondered whether he should push for taking Trion's advice. If they put their full support behind Optimus Prime, what would happen? Would it unify the Council? Would they be able to end the war quickly enough?

No. Alpha Trion was looking out for his own interests just like any other Councilmech. He wanted them serving under his pet Prime so that he could continue to influence and control them. He had left the Council in order to push them toward collapse—in order to make them desperate.

Arguments broke out. Halogen remained silent, thinking. He didn't know what to do—his superiors hadn't spoken to him at all since he'd lost the Institute. They were probably angry, but if they didn't give him instructions, then how could he help them accomplish their plans?

He was on his own, and everything was falling apart. He needed to get his mecha back under control without giving in to any outside forces. They needed to be focused. They needed a plan, a direction of some sort.

"Silence!" he said.

The Council floor quieted.

"You are squabbling sparklings," Halogen said. "We must not lose sight of who we are and what our purpose is. Perhaps our political power is waning, but that doesn't change us. We ruled this city once, and we will rule it again. Alpha Trion has provided us with a means."

They all looked at him.

He pulled something out of a secret compartment in his side and held it up for all of them to see. "The key to Vector Sigma. As the location of the Matrix of Leadership has been forgotten, Optimus Prime needs this to receive the knowledge of the Primes and find the Matrix. There is no other way."

"We have discussed this before," a senator stood. "Halogen, we can threaten to withhold it from him, but he will know it's an empty threat. We _must_ give it to him."

"We are doomed if we do, we are doomed if we don't," Halogen said. "We ought to give it to him, yes, but we can ask a price for it. I need all of your processors. We are a Council. Let us work together and figure out a way to hold onto the power we have, using this key as a bargaining tool."

* * *

The last of his memories dwindled into nothingness.

Orion un-shuttered his optics.

"Well?" Yoketron said.

Orion shook his helm. "Not that time. But it was easier. Maybe once more."

He glanced at Elita, who stood by the side of the room, feeling concerned and upset—almost angry. He smiled and tried to send reassurance over the bond. He knew she could tell the trial was painful for him. She'd taken things very well when he had first explained it, but she'd seemed a lot more upset after he'd attempted the trial. Now, after his third attempt, he could tell she was on the verge of openly protesting.

He could still feel the bond in the trial and it was—though he wouldn't admit it—actually somewhat distracting. It did provide extra incentive to finish the trial, though, because he didn't want her to have to vicariously feel his pain any longer.

"How many times do you normally do this?" she asked.

"Nothing in the trial is supposed to linger afterward," Yoketron said. "But… the second time Orion attempted the trial, something went wrong and now it gives him a processor ache. I haven't normally been letting him attempt it more than once an orn, but I want him to finish it if he can before we return to Iacon, so we're making an exception."

Elita frowned.

"Orion?" Yoketron said. "How is your helm?"

"It's not bad," Orion said. There were plenty of times it had been worse, even after completing the trial only once. "And… I think I can do it. One more attempt."

Yoketron nodded. "One more."

Elita came over and sat by him on the floor. "Can I sit here?" she asked.

"Of course," Yoketron said as he stood and walked around behind Orion. Orion shuttered his optics and took Elita's hand in his.

One more time. He just had to let go and it would be over.

The trial began.

[Memory Erase initiated. Beginning in five... four… three… two…one…]

Orion could still feel the bond, which helped ground him in reality, but also made it easy to lose focus. He realized, though, as his early memories began to disappear, that even when he had lost everything else, he would still be able to feel it. He clung to that idea, focusing on the bond so he didn't have to fight his own instincts, or the memory wipe. This was just a simulation, but the bond was real.

His memories disappeared, taking with them his entire life. He focused on Elita, on the comfort of her spark. Even though he couldn't feel her hand in his anymore, he could still feel her near through the bond. Re-forging that bond was one of the last things he'd forget. That was one of the things that had snagged him the past few times. He'd focused on that memory and let everything else go, but then he hadn't wanted to forget that.

He'd have to let it go too this time.

Everything he'd ever done.

All the mecha he'd ever met.

All of his successes.

His failures.

His friends.

He let them go. It would be all right, he told himself, because he wasn't alone.

In this simulation, he would have to let go of Elita too, but it was just a simulation, and when he was finished, she would be there.

Oblivion caught up to him.

And then in the oblivion, Alpha Trion's voice spoke.

"You have completed the trial. You may proceed."

Orion un-shuttered his optics.

"Orion?"

"I did it," he said, then looked down.

"Is everything all right?" Yoketron asked.

"Yes," Orion said. "Just… Alpha Trion's probably not going to be happy about the bond."

"There's an obvious solution to that," Yoketron said. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. And didn't we just prove it won't prevent you from completing the trials?"

Orion nodded. It probably wouldn't come up—he didn't have to visit Alpha Trion any time soon, but… "I don't feel right hiding it from him."

"Then I'll tell him," Yoketron said. "Don't worry about it. Well, Elita, thank you for being here. I'm sure you have things you need to do."

"What's the next trial?" Elita asked.

"Ah," Yoketron said. "That one's a little different. We can't start that one yet—you only get one attempt."

That didn't sound good.

"Well, you only _need_ one attempt, since you stay in the trial until you succeed, but it takes some mecha decaorns to complete it… so you'll need to plan some time off in the future. For now, I believe you have a battle to clean up from."

"We're going back now?" Orion asked.

"Elita goes back now. We go next orn," Yoketron said. "It wouldn't be good to show up at the same time. We can stay here the rest of the on-cycle, then leave the city under the cover of darkness. Then no one will know you were here, Orion."

Orion almost argued, but decided it wouldn't do any good.

"I do need to go," Elita said. She smiled at him. "I think my sisters are anxious for me to explain to them why I was in Simfur."

Orion nodded. "Yes. We should tell them. I believe it would be reasonable to let Ironhide in on the secret as well."

"You'll need a medic, too," Yoketron said. "Some scanners can detect bonds, and so you'll want someone you trust working on you if you're ever injured."

"I'll tell Chromia she can tell Ironhide," Elita said. "And I suppose you can tell Ratchet once you get back. Is there anyone else?"

"Prowl knows already," Yoketron said. "I would advise against telling anyone you haven't already listed."

Elita nodded. "All right. I'll see you soon."

Orion watched her leave, then vented a sigh. He still wasn't entirely sure this had been the right thing to do. But he felt much better than he had before. The only worry was that it wasn't going to last.

"While you're still here," Yoketron said. "We can train. You've been falling behind on that."

Orion nodded.

* * *

"How are things progressing?"

Shockwave looked up as Megatron approached. "Not as quickly as I wish," he said. "I have been able to complete the process of shadowplay for most of those who had finished the stages. However, the equipment necessary for continuing the first part of the procedure was lost when we left the Institute."

"I gave you permission to go ahead with any other projects that you felt would help the Decepticon cause. What are you working on?"

Shockwave nodded. "Before the Institute, I knew a mech who was working on a way to contain and make use of spark energy. I am attempting to recreate his research. This would allow me to make powerful weapons and would certainly open up other possibilities as well. I'm also hoping to find more effective methods to affect core programming. It is not logical to assume that Shadowplay is the most efficient."

Megatron frowned. He wasn't an expert, but he'd heard that tampering with core programming was almost always fatal. And he didn't really need more brainwashed mecha. "I'm much more interested in the weapons," he said. "How soon do you think you can finish this research you spoke of?"

"Soon," Shockwave said. "Though I have made less headway on the problem than I expected to. In order to complete it, I must also find a way to efficiently collect spark energy."

"Wouldn't collecting spark energy from someone offline them?"

"Yes," Shockwave said. "But if I can find a way to collect without killing the donor, we will have a sustainable source."

"Are you still pulling test subjects from the mines?"

"Yes."

"The mines aren't producing enough that we can lose miners. Next time you need more mecha, let me know, and we'll get you some from somewhere else."

Shockwave nodded.

* * *

Ratchet looked up from his desk as Orion came in, followed by Ironhide, and Elita and her sisters.

"I see you're back," he said, scowling as he got up and started sorting the datapads and tools on his desk. Orion had disappeared shortly after the battle. According to Prowl, he'd gone on some sort of 'training retreat' without telling anyone first. "I don't know why you brought a crowd with you," Ratchet said. "But they won't save you." He glared. "I can't believe you ran off without telling anyone and left that stuck-up Praxian in charge."

"I apologize for leaving on such short notice," Orion said.

"Hmph," Ratchet said. "So what are you doing here?"

"For one," Orion said. "I hear they've started issuing the insignias, and I would like to set an example for all of our soldiers."

Ratchet nodded and jerked his helm toward the empty berth in his office. "Sit down."

Orion sat on the berth as Ratchet pulled a thin patch of metal from subspace. He turned the Prime's pain receptors down and then started carefully welding the insignia to Orion's shoulder. "You look better-rested, at least," Ratchet said. "Did you really go with Master Yoketron on some sort of training trip?"

Silence fell. Ratchet glanced up at him to see him staring across the room at Elita, who was looking back with wide-opticed concern.

"Not that you'd tell me," Ratchet finished welding the insignia to Orion's shoulder, and walked around to the other side, unsubspacing another one. "If it's some sort of big secret."

"Well…" Orion said.

"Wait," Elita cut in.

Everyone looked at her.

"Wait until he's finished with the insignias," she said. "And isn't holding a welding torch."

Ratchet turned slowly to face Orion again, narrowing his optics. "What exactly did you do?"

Orion looked intimidated, and a little guilty.

"Are you injured?"

"No," he said.

"But you did something stupid."

"Just finish the insignia, medic," Chromia snapped. "I'm not sure how I feel about this myself. But no one's in immediate danger."

Ratchet glared at her, but welded the insignia to Orion's shoulder anyway. "Right," he said when he was done. He very pointedly shifted his hand back to normal. "Now what is it you're going to tell me?"

"I did go with Master Yoketron," Orion said. "We went to Simfur."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "And?"

"Well, we met up with Elita there, and… the Allspark was able to heal our bond."

Silence fell. Ratchet stared at him, trying to work through the ramifications of that. He hadn't known the Allspark could do that sort of thing, but he _did_ know that the bond had broken for a reason. How exactly would you go about repairing it when Orion and Elita's sparks were no longer compatible?

"How?" he demanded.

"It's the Allspark," Ironhide put in. "It can probably do whatever it wants."

Ratchet shook his helm, narrowing his optics. "Hmph. That's impossible."

"Well..." Orion said, then smiled at Elita.

"I didn't think the Allspark could do that sort of thing," Ratchet said. "Whose idea was this?"

Orion shrugged. "Master Yoketron's. He was fairly sure it would work…"

"Fairly sure?" Ratchet said. " _Fairly sure?_ "

"Mostly sure?" Orion looked nervous now.

"Lie down on that berth," Ratchet said. "Now! Elita, over there."

* * *

Orion lay down and watched as Ratchet dragged some machinery over and Elita went obediently to the other berth.

Orion could tell she wasn't particularly nervous, but he was concerned now, since Ratchet wasn't taking it very well. If they told the medic everything—like the fact that they might need to break the bond again in the future—he would be furious.

"I'm going to scan you to see the bond," Ratchet said. "Re-formed bonds are often unstable. But in your case…" his voice was tight, as if he were just barely holding back some yelling. "…I also need to check all of your other systems. _Pretty sure_ it would work… what if you had offlined! What if it had damaged your sparks? You can't go getting yourselves hurt in ways I don't know how to fix." He kept muttering to himself as he worked. He did what seemed like an unreasonable number of different kinds of scans on Orion and Elita. Eventually, though, he went over to the computer at the side of the room and told them they could get up. Orion sat, but didn't get off of the berth. Elita, on the other hand, stood and came over to sit next to him. He could feel her spark pulsing in sync with his.

Every time she got close, he remembered how much he had missed that. He smiled as she set her hand down elegantly on top of his.

"You know, you can't be doing that sort of thing in public," Chromia said. "We have to keep this a secret. Ratchet did you hear that?"

"Yes," Ratchet said, still focusing on the computer screen.

Elita leaned her helm on Orion's shoulder. "We're not in public," she said.

Chromia glared at her.

Elita sighed and sat up straight. Orion felt her happiness fade a little. "I know," she said. "We're in more danger because of this… but it's worth it. Surely you can understand that."

The two sisters stared each other down for a few astroseconds, and then Chromia lowered her gaze. "Yes." She said, then looked at Ironhide. "I'm still not pleased though," she turned again and met Orion's optics. "Because not only did you hurt my sister, now you've put her in danger again."

"No," Elita said. "This was my choice. You know it's not his fault."

Chromia didn't answer.

Ratchet returned from the computer, looking angry still, and also a little concerned.

"Well?" Moonracer said. "Are they okay?" She sounded eager. Orion wouldn't be surprised if she was much happier about this development than Chromia was.

"Their bond is stable," Ratchet said with a scowl. "But it's about two and a half times as strong as it ought to be."

Silence fell.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Moonracer said. "Isn't that good?"

"No," Ratchet said. "Because now, if one of you offlines, the other one will almost certainly follow."

Orion tensed, though Elita didn't react.

"And there would be no way to prevent it either, because I doubt that either of you would even be _capable_ of breaking the bond."

This had been a terrible mistake. If he died so would she. There was no way to stop it. And they wouldn't be able to break the bond before he visited Vector Sigma. That could kill her too.

Elita was annoyed at him, probably for being so upset.

"I'm not sure _how_ but everything else seems normal, fortunately." Ratchet said, still glaring at Orion. "By the Allspark... that was a stupid thing to do! Was that _really_ worth the safety of the entire world? We can't lose you, Orion. Now it's at least twice as likely that you'll offline. And if someone kills you, it's guaranteed to kill Elita too. Is a bond really worth that?"

"Leave him alone," Elita said, angry now.

Ratchet turned his glare on her.

"I made this decision. Orion was hesitant, but _I_ wasn't. This was my choice. There has always been danger, and there will always _be_ danger. Two sparks are better than one. I am not a burden, I am a support. And I will _always_ be here to support Orion, as long as he needs me." She got up off the berth and took a step toward Ratchet, who backed away. "And if you want to yell at my spark-mate, you're going to have to shout me down first!"

Silence fell.

"You're still fools," Ratchet said quietly, but turned away. "But you aren't injured or sick, so get out of my office. And make sure to keep this a secret. The danger increases if more mecha find out. And Primus help us if Megatron learns about this."

"Yeah," Chromia said. "That wouldn't be good. I propose we don't even talk about this among ourselves, even when we think no one can hear."

Orion nodded. "I agree with that."

"And we can't treat Ellie any differently, either," Moonracer said. "We don't want anyone to think she's more important than anyone else. If Chromia and I go fight, Ellie should be allowed to come with."

"That's out of the question," Ratchet said.

"No, I think Moonracer's right," Ironhide said. "Probably aren't sending you femmes out onto the battlefield any time soon, but you should keep training, Elita. In fact, you should train harder. All three of you—you need to be able to keep Elita safe."

Elita looked back at Orion. Her fury was gone, and she was feeling pity for him. "I know that bothers you," she said quietly.

"It does," Orion said. "But it's your decision. And I do want you to be able to defend yourself."

Elita nodded solemnly.

"Well, that's that." Ratchet said. "Get out, go on."

They filed out of his office.

* * *

Makeshift watched his mark from across the room, thoughtfully. He got called up into the tower a little more frequently now, and he was fairly sure Red Alert would let him in if he showed up at the base of the elevator and asked. But he had to be careful not to overstay his welcome, or the security mech would get suspicious.

Assassinations weren't really his thing. He wasn't afraid of killing, of course—he'd done his fair share of that—but it was just so pedestrian. Blow his cover so he could stab a mech in the back and then run for it. It was a waste. He wasn't some common assassin—he was the only mech who'd been able to slip past the security in this place. He was probably the only mech who _could_ get past that ridiculous red and white menace.

He got the sense that Blackangle wasn't too happy about his orders either, but Makeshift supposed until the boss got rid of that gladiator, they had to make a pretense.

And he could sneak in again later, if he had to. There were ways.

For now, though, he had to figure out how to kill Prowl.

The Praxian sat in the corner of the main room by himself. They had converted this place to a sort of energon hall, with chairs and tables, and an energon dispenser along one wall. Makeshift had been here four or five times in the past several orns and had stayed as long as he dared, listening, observing. This was the very first time he'd seen the Prowl here, and from what he knew that was a stroke of good fortune since the mech rarely left his office.

Prowl was a loner—not very well liked, not very friendly. And that made things difficult. It was always a lot easier to kill someone if Makeshift could make a line of trust and impersonate his way up through it to his mark.

But he didn't think Prowl trusted anyone, except maybe Optimus Prime, and Makeshift couldn't use the Prime. He'd have to incapacitate anyone he decided to scan, and the Prime was too well-protected.

He could also just walk up to the mech and stab him, but that was riskier, less likely to work, and he'd definitely be caught.

Red Alert stormed into the room and headed toward Makeshift. Makeshift's spark jumped, but he quickly realized the mech was actually heading for the next table over, where Jazz, Blurr, and one of the other mecha from the department were sitting, making light conversation.

Jazz was interesting. Makeshift thought he was a little too friendly to be the head of the department. He was certainly qualified, and could be intimidating when he wanted to, but the spies shouldn't all be friends with one another. That could lead to problems and complications. Jazz—being a former member of Quantum—ought to understand that.

"Jazz!" Red Alert snapped when he got to the table.

Jazz jumped and turned around. "Frag, don't scare me, Red. What?"

Red Alert leaned forward. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you," he growled under his breath. "I need cameras _everywhere_ in this tower. Your office is _not_ an exception."

Jazz shook his helm. "Ya do have cameras in my office."

"Well, I _did…_ "

"They're still there," Jazz said. "Still operational too. They just ain't feeding any of their footage to you."

"But…"

"I get that that's important, mech, believe me. If ya ever need ta know what happened in my office just ask and I'll forward ya the tapes. But I need that office ta be a safe place where I can talk about sensitive information without…"

"I am _cleared_ for sensitive information," Red Alert said. "I'm head of _security."_

"Yeah, mech, I know," Jazz said. "It's not you, I just don't want those conversations stored on any sort of network database…"

"You think I'd just _store_ it somewhere without encrypting everything and making sure no one can find it?"

"I trust ya, I just don't want ta risk it. Mech, we're up against Soundwave here. He can hack almost anything."

"He doesn't need to," Red Alert said.

"Exactly. Look, ya can stick more cameras in there if you want. But I'm just gonna do the same thing ta them that I did ta the ones ya put in there already."

"I will speak with the Prime about this."

"Okay," Jazz said.

Red Alert stormed away.

"Yikes," Blurr said.

"Eh, he's always like that," Jazz said, getting up from the table. "I gotta go talk ta someone. I'll catch up with ya mechs later." Jazz got up and walked away, to another table, where some members of the public relations team were sitting. He started up a conversation with them.

Makeshift looked back at his mark, but Prowl's table was now empty. He must have left at some point. Makeshift looked down into his cube of energon, thinking. Who did Prowl trust? He almost never left his office, almost never talked to anyone outside of meetings. He didn't seem to have any friends either.

Makeshift was going to have trouble, even if he did find someone Prowl trusted. Red Alert was always, always watching the cameras. If Makeshift wanted to do this _and_ get away with it…

Jazz's office was a blind spot, apparently. Maybe Makeshift could… no. There was no way he'd be able to incapacitate Jazz. That was far too risky. He'd have to think of something else. Maybe there was some other way he could use the room.

He needed more time to come up with a good plan. Blackangle had told him he needed the job done as soon as possible, but Makeshift wasn't going to rush it. He would continue to bide his time until he had a good opportunity.


	28. Limitations

Orion's sword fell from his hands and Elita held a blade to his neck with a smirk. "Any last words, Prime?"

"I haven't practiced much with actual weapons."

Elita shook her helm and backed away. "I'm going to get integrated weapons soon," she said. "You should too. Probably some decent guns, and a blade of some sort."

Orion picked up the practice sword and got into a ready stance. His balance was off when he was carrying the weapon, so he adjusted to compensate.

They engaged. This time, Orion knocked Elita over and won. He reached down to help her up. She was very good, though she wasn't as good as Chromia, or even Orion, after he started to get the hang of using the sword. They kept going. It was actually kind of nice, to spar with her. It made a good excuse to be with her. They'd had their bond back for a few decaorns now, but that didn't change the fact that they were both busy, and they had to be careful not to seem too close.

"Orion!" Ironhide shouted from across the training warehouse. "Don't hold your sword like that!" Orion looked up and Elita used his distraction to knock his pedes out from under him. Orion dropped his sword again as Ironhide came over. He bent to pick up Orion's practice sword by the blade and shoved the hilt back into Orion's hand. "It's a sword, not a shield. Don't use it to block an attack, turn the blade and deflect."

"Right," Orion said, and Ironhide stepped back.

Elita attacked him. He blocked and pushed her back. She danced away and came at him again. They engaged a few more times. Ironhide wandered away before Orion finally backed Elita up against a wall.

She smiled at him. They stood frozen for a few moments—probably too long—staring into each other's optics. Orion didn't want to push away. The only thing separating them was their swords.

"All right," Ironhide said. "What the pit are you doing?"

Orion pushed away from the wall, feeling a little foolish. Elita wasn't embarrassed, though.

"Sorry," she said calmly.

Ironhide shook his helm. He'd gotten a practice sword from the wall. "Okay," he said. "Orion, let me show you something. Attack me."

Orion took a deep vent and attacked. Ironhide defended easily, knocking Orion's sword out of the way again and again. "See," he said. "I'm not wasting any effort trying to push back, just deflecting. Your footwork is good."

"Thanks."

"Now, you defend." Ironhide went on the offensive, and Orion tried to copy what he'd been doing. "Good." Ironhide sped up. "That's better. When you're fighting someone Elita's size, you can just push them back, but I'm a lot bigger than she is." He sped up, and Orion only managed to fend off the next couple of blows before Ironhide knocked his sword out of his hand.

Ironhide lowered his blade, frowning. "Optimus, if you get an integrated blade, you won't be able to just _drop_ it."

"Uh… that's a good thing, right?"

"Yes and no," Ironhide said. "It means you can't lose your sword, but if it's attached to you, and you let me hit it that hard, you're going to regret it a lot more than you would if you'd dropped it. Pick it up again. This time, don't drop it. Hold on to it as tightly as you can."

Orion retrieved his blade and Ironhide attacked him again, even more fiercely than before. Orion felt something give in his hand the second time he blocked, and he winced, but kept holding on.

"'Hide…" Elita said.

Ironhide swung hard at Orion's helm and Orion fell to one knee and brought up his own sword to block.

The swords collided.

Orion's blade shattered and he felt the shock reverberate painfully through his hands. He shuttered his optics for a few moments, and then stood up slowly.

"See?" Ironhide said. "Waste of a good sword."

Orion looked down at his stinging hand. He flexed it and felt things move in ways they shouldn't.

"Sorry," Ironhide said. "Are you all right?"

Orion nodded. He could tell Elita was worried about him, though.

Ironhide seemed to study him for a moment, then shook his helm and turned away. "You're not a fighter, Orion."

"No, I'm not."

"Keep practicing, though. You're already better than I thought you'd ever be."

"Master Yoketron's a good teacher," Orion said. "Though it seems I'm still lacking in some of the more practical fighting skills. I'd be honored if you'd teach me as well."

Ironhide nodded.

"Some orn, I might need to fight Megatron."

"No," Ironhide said. "He'd offline you faster than you could get your sword up."

"I'm not going to seek him out to fight him, but it's a possibility that he'll hunt me down. I think… If he wants me dead, he probably wants to kill me personally."

"We won't let him get close enough," Ironhide said. "It doesn't matter how hard you practice. You can learn to fight, but you can't learn to be a fighter. You're an archivist. He's a gladiator."

Orion looked down.

" _Prime!"_ Prowl's voice came over the comm. At the same time, Ironhide straightened, looking alert and wary. _"The Decepticons are attacking Iacon! We need you at base."_

Alarm sirens went off in the distance.

Ironhide held a hand up to his external comm. "Copy that," he said. "Come on," He beckoned to Orion, then shouted to the other mecha practicing in the warehouse that they all needed to make sure their comms were on and get to their assigned positions.

"You need to lead the—" Orion said, but Ironhide cut him off.

"First I need to get you safely back to the tower."

Orion spoke to Prowl over the comm. _"I'm coming back to the tower. I'll be there in a few breems."_

" _No,"_ Prowl said. _"We can get you a two-way bridge. Send Mainspring your coordinates."_

That was illegal, but Orion didn't want to contest it. He sent Mainspring coordinates of an empty spot at the front of the training warehouse. "Ironhide, they said they'll get me a bridge."

Ironhide nodded, just as the glowing blue portal formed in the atmosphere in front of them. Orion and Elita jogged through it and out to the other side. Mecha were scrambling to set up the command center. Orion looked around for Prowl as the groundbridge closed behind them, but the mech didn't seem to be here.

" _Prowl?"_ Orion said.

" _I'm in my office. Sorry, there wasn't time to get to the main room, and it really doesn't matter."_ He sounded frustrated.

" _What's happening?"_ Orion asked. _"Are they attacking our soldiers? Can we fend them off?"_

" _No, and that's not the question,"_ Prowl said. _"They've bridged into a few neighborhoods nearby, and they're just attacking civilians."_

" _What?"_ Orion demanded.

" _This isn't a full-scale attack. I think they're trying to capture mecha for some reason. We could prevent that by asking the Council to put up the bridge shield around the sector. That would trap the Decepticon forces here and we'd be able to overwhelm them. But you'd have to talk to the Council, and that will probably take too long… frag it…"_

Orion looked to Elita. "Would you let Councilor Halogen know I want to talk to him immediately?"

Elita nodded and Orion accepted a chair and sat down, looking up as mecha set up holoscreens around the room. It struck him as he joined the group comm. Red Alert had invited him to that it would be better if they had some sort of permanent command center. The process of putting things up cost them time and effort.

Or maybe they didn't _need_ a command center, since they mostly spoke over the group comm. anyway. They might not always have a lot of warning before the Decepticons attacked and Prowl could probably work from his office just as well as here.

" _Prowl?"_ he said over the comm.

" _They're taking mecha,"_ Prowl said. _"Our soldiers can't be everywhere at once and we don't have access to the Council's surveillance system like we did in Slaughter City. I can't respond quickly enough. I need the Council to put up a groundbridge shield."_

" _Elita?"_

" _I'm working on it."_ He could feel her frustration over the bond. _"They aren't answering yet."_

" _Surely they know what's going on."_

A rumbling sound like distant thunder penetrated the atmosphere.

" _What the frag was that?"_ Ratchet's voice demanded over the comm. _"Who's blowing things up?"_

It took a few astroseconds for anyone to answer him. _"Someone—not our mecha—set off a detonation in a building."_

" _Fragging Decepticons!_ _"_ Ratchet growled.

" _That must have been fairly close,"_ Mainspring said. _"We heard it all the way up here."_

Optimus got up from his chair and walked toward the balcony. Ignoring Red Alert's protests that it wasn't safe, he walked outside.

Sure enough, he could see a cloud of smoke rising from a nearby neighborhood below. There was another mech standing at the railing, looking thoughtfully down at it. Orion joined him, grabbing the railing, and wincing as pain flared in his damaged hand. He'd have to have Ratchet look at that later.

"Prime, Sir," the light blue noblemech mech nodded.

"Blurr," Orion said.

They stood in silence for a few astroseconds, as Orion listened to the desperate chatter over the comm. channel. Apparently groups of Decepticons were still showing up, and others had already captured groups of civilians and had taken them through groundbridges. There wasn't much Prowl could do about it.

"It's a little terrifying to think they're that close," Blurr said. "Groundbridges make it so difficult to set up defenses."

"Yes."

"They couldn't groundbridge up here, could they?"

Orion shook his helm, spark sinking as he saw another explosion in the buildings below, and heard its rumbling. "Red Alert had a small shield installed."

" _Orion, the Council's responded. They'll speak with you now."_

Thank Primus. Orion accepted the comm.

" _Optimus Prime,"_ Halogen's voice spoke over the comm. _"If you want to speak with us, you should appear in person at the Council Hall You have no right to contact us—"_

" _You know the city is under attack, don't you?"_ Orion said. _"We don't have time for your political games, Halogen. The Decepticons are kidnapping civilians. You have to put up the city-wide groundbridge shield to prevent them from leaving with our mecha."_

" _Is that so?"_ Halogen's voice said. _"We_ have _to? And if we don't, I suppose you'll attack the defense building like you did the groundbridge stations?"_

" _Mecha are being kidnapped,"_ Orion said, trying to stay patient. _"If you don't put up a shield, you will be responsible—"_

" _But isn't defending against the Decepticons_ your _responsibility? Besides, you're in no position to make demands."_

He really _really_ didn't have time for this. _"I know,"_ he said, trying not to let his frustration seep into his simulated voice. _"This isn't a demand. It's a request. A plea even. On behalf of the mecha of this city, Lord Halogen, please have the groundbridge shield activated."_

" _We would like to meet with you later this orn or next orn,"_ Councilor Halogen said. _"If you will agree to come to the Council Hall for an audience with us, we will fulfill your request to put up the shield."_

Well _that_ didn't sound like a trap.

But he didn't have much of a choice here. _"Very well,"_ he said.

" _Thank you, Optimus,"_ Halogen said. _"We'll send the orders to activate the shield."_

" _Prime,"_ Prowl said. _"They're all retreating now. Have you talked to the Council yet? If we act quickly we might be able to stop them, but they'd have to put up the shield within the next half a breem."_

Orion frowned. _"What will happen if the Decepticons have bridges open when the shield goes up."_

" _The bridges will short out,"_

" _And anyone in the bridges?"_

Prowl hesitated.

Mainspring spoke for him. _"There's a risk they could be hurt or killed. Some might end up on this side of the bridge, others on the other side. There's no way to tell for certain."_

" _Then we let them go,"_ Orion said, and spoke over the other comm. to Halogen. _"Don't turn on the shield. It's too late—they're retreating already, and I don't want to risk the lives of our civilians by shorting out the Decepticon groundbridges."_

He waited a few astroseconds for an answer.

" _Very well,"_ Halogen said. _"But we still expect you to meet with us."_

Orion sighed. _"I'll make time next orn,"_ he said, and cut the comm. with them. Then he pushed away from the railing and went back inside, feeling defeated.

* * *

Jazz tapped his pede on the ground under the table. This was one reason it was more convenient to show up to meetings a breem or two late. Then he didn't have to wait for anyone else.

The others around the table looked generally unhappy. They hadn't lost as many mecha this time, according to Chromia, but they hadn't won the fight either.

Still, there was no reason to be so gloomy.

Ratchet came in and took the empty chair at the table.

Orion stood. "Thank you all for being here," he said, looking down at the table with a troubled expression. "And thank you for your hard work and your quick response this orn."

Jazz saw Prowl's doorwings dip down slightly. He probably blamed himself for the outcome. That mech was ridiculous. All of them were—this wasn't really that bad.

Though the fact that the Decepticons had showed up and kidnapped a few hundred Iaconian civilians certainly wasn't good.

"Chromia, do we have the final numbers?"

"Yeah," Chromia said. "Four hundred and eighty-one civilians captured, along with thirty of our soldiers. We captured seventy-one Decepticon soldiers. There are about fifty of our mecha injured but only twelve offline, eighteen offline and seventy-five injured civilians, and one hundred eighty-eight Decepticons offline."

"What?" Prowl said. "How did we get two hundred Decepticon casualties? We didn't kill that many."

"Yeah," Chromia said. "Remember those explosions?"

Prowl frowned. "Yes. Did we find out what those were?"

"Yes," Mainspring said. "Apparently a group of civilians decided to take matters into their own hands. From reports, they evacuated buildings, then lured Decepticon soldiers inside and set off detonations, killing them, and the few civilians who hadn't evacuated."

Orion frowned. "Those explosions were set off by civilians?"

"Yes," Mainspring said.

"Well…" Jazz put in, leaning back in his chair. "Can't fault mecha for defending their own territory."

"Except that no one we've talked to recognized them," Chromia said. "Whoever they are, they aren't from around here."

That was interesting. "Huh. Sounds like that could be trouble." He turned to Mainspring "Want me ta look into it?"

Mainspring glanced at Orion, who nodded. "Thank you, Jazz. We would appreciate that. Prowl, is there anything you would like to say about the battle?"

Prowl took in a deep vent and looked up from the table. "We weren't prepared for this," he said. "And I have no idea why Megatron attacked here of all places and kidnapped civilians. You'd think he'd have enough prisoners from Kaon and Tarn."

"Maybe those ones all joined his army," Jazz said, grinning in response to Prowl's glare. "It's probably some sort of scare tactic, but if ya want I can look inta that too—try and figure it out." He was already on top of that. He'd sent Mirage to follow the Decepticons through one of their groundbridges back to Kaon. He didn't want to announce that in the meeting, though, just in case. He trusted these mecha, but he didn't trust them to be careful who they talked around. Maybe that made him almost as paranoid as Red Alert, but he'd rather be paranoid if it meant keeping his mecha safe. He'd tell Orion about Mirage's mission privately later on.

"Do you think rescuing them would be possible?" Orion asked.

"Don't know," Jazz said. "Once we have more information I might be able ta come up with something." Rescuing one or two mecha was usually not too hard, but large numbers were trickier—especially large numbers of normal, working-class mecha.

"Please try," Orion said, then turned back to Prowl. "Is there any way to prevent this from happening in the future?"

"Of course," Prowl said. "If city-states were more prepared and put up groundbridge shields as soon as the attacks started, that would force the Decepticons to bridge outside city limits and attack from there. The only catch is that—unless we have soldiers in the city already—we would also have to bridge outside the city-state."

"The city-states would also have to be prepared to shut their groundbridge stations down," Mainspring said. "Any open groundbridges would be disrupted when the shield went up. It would be quite a hassle."

Orion nodded. "We should get in contact with Councils around Cybertron and suggest they prepare."

"Prime, Sir?"

"Yes, Prowl."

"I do feel I must apologize. I was prepared for a large number of situations, but the Decepticons showing up to kidnap civilians wasn't one of them."

Jazz stared at the Praxian, who had somehow lost all of his hubris and looked honestly apologetic. Interesting.

"You couldn't have predicted this would happen," Orion said. "We have no way of knowing the Decepticons' plans."

Jazz crossed his arms, feeling suddenly guilty. If he was still in Kaon, they might have been able to prepare. His mission hadn't been a failure, exactly, but he could have helped more if he'd found a way to stay.

Frag, something had to be done about Soundwave. Jazz wasn't sure what, though. The mech was very well guarded, on top of being impossible to sneak up on and a dangerous fighter.

"We've talked about the battle," Ratchet said. "Can I leave now?"

Orion nodded. "We will update you if there is anything else—"

"Wait," Red Alert said. "I have something important to say."

Ratchet snorted.

"Go ahead, Red Alert," Orion said.

"We need to move," the head of security said. "This tower is too easy a target. They can't bridge in here while we have our shield up, but all they have to do is set off a big enough bomb at the base and we come crashing to the ground. We need a more defensible position."

Jazz would have to let Mirage know about that as soon as the noblemech came back from Kaon. He would probably be happy to hear that the Autobots were moving out of his home. Jazz had heard him complain about it a hundred times.

"This place is more defensible than most other buildings in the city," Ironhide said. "Where exactly do you want us to move to?"

"We'll have to build a base." Red Alert said.

"Do I really need to be here for this?" Ratchet said.

"You may leave, Ratchet," Orion said.

Ratchet got up from his chair and left while the others kept talking.

"I think it's a good idea," Mainspring said. "We've already essentially outgrown Mirage's tower. On the other hand, this sounds like a big project. Do we have the credit for it?"

Everyone looked at Chromia.

"Doubt it," she said. "Unless we pull some strings and get the Council to help us. They have the credit. We could demand some tribute for trying to defend their city."

"I don't want to demand tribute from anyone," Orion said. "Not even the Council."

"With what we have, we could probably get started building a base," Chromia said. "But probably not one that meets Mr. Panic Attack's requirements. Who's going to design this thing anyway? You?"

"Well, I don't know anymech else who could," Red Alert said.

"You're not an architect," Chromia said. "And do you really have _time…_ "

"I'm sure I can find a trustworthy architect or two," Mainspring said. "If we decide to move forward with this, then we can come up with some plans for the base."

"I think building a base is a good idea," Prowl said. "This is a mansion, not a military building. We will be more effective, more efficient, and better protected in a base that was built with our needs in mind."

It was true. Jazz always felt a little bit trapped up here so high above the ground anyway. There was really only one way out of this place, which was kind of dangerous.

"I will talk to the Council," Orion said. "I'll see if we can make some arrangement to use their funds to build a base. I'm meeting with them next orn…"

"Meeting with them?" Ironhide said. "Why?"

"I told them I would come in return for them putting up the groundbridge shield."

"You're going _to_ the Council Hall to meet with them?" Ironhide said. "No. Absolutely not."

"They didn't put up the bridge," Prowl said. "So I don't see why—"

"They were going to, but it was too late," Orion said. "And I told them I would go. I'm not going to go back on my promise to them."

This mech was too honorable to be in charge of an army. Going personally to the Council was too much of a risk if you asked Jazz. It wasn't in the Council's best interest to get rid of Orion, but they did some really stupid things sometimes and he wouldn't chance it.

"You really think they would have put up a shield?" Ironhide said. "They're just trying to manipulate you."

"But I will not go back on my promise," Orion repeated. "Please, Ironhide, can we have this argument some other time?"

"Sure," Ironhide crossed his arms.

"Then that's settled," Orion said. "Red Alert and Mainspring, I'll leave it up to you two to find a good location and start working on plans for the base. When you have them ready, you can present them in a meeting."

Red Alert nodded.

Orion moved to the next subject, which was a report from Ironhide about recruit training, and then the topic turned to trying to predict what the Decepticons would do next and where they would attack. Jazz got to report that he and his mecha had now been to half of the major city-states on the planet and had scouted out defensible locations and ambush points. They were still working on it, but the project was coming along nicely.

When the meeting was finally over, Jazz slipped out of his seat and went to see if he could find the mecha who'd blown up those buildings.

* * *

Orion sat behind his desk with a sigh. He had a long list of mecha to talk to about the attack. Scale-wise, it hadn't been terrible, but they would probably get some negative publicity from it—especially since they'd lost.

Megatron should be the one who got negative publicity. And maybe he would, but it wouldn't stop everyone. Orion had heard there were still thousands of mecha flocking to join the gladiator's forces every decaorn.

He shuttered his optics, suddenly disappointed in himself. He was worrying about publicity. He was worrying about publicity when mecha had just been kidnapped and _offlined._

He couldn't do this.

Elita commed him, and he answered. _"Yes?"_

" _Are you all right?"_ she asked.

" _Fine,"_ he snapped.

" _Okay… well, let me know if you need anything."_

Red Alert commed him.

" _Excuse me, I have to talk to Red Alert."_

" _All right."_ She cut the comm. before he could and he took in a deep vent and answered Red Alert's comm.

" _Yes? What is it?"_

" _You… have some visitors…"_ Red Alert sounded hesitant. _"I… I let them in and they're headed for your room."_

" _Who is it?"_

 _"I... you'll see."_

There was a knock at his door, and he called for whoever it was to come in.

The door opened, and Orion got to his pedes as Alpha Trion stepped into the room.

"Good orn, Optimus Prime," the old archivist said.

Orion came around the desk, but Alpha Trion waved him back. "Please, sit down."

Two mechs and a femme came in behind him. Orion recognized one of the mechs, and froze. It was one thing to speak with Alpha Trion and Maccadam, who he had known for vorns before he knew they were members of the Original Thirteen.

It was another thing entirely to be staring Logos Prime in the optics.

He tore his gaze away. The silver and lavender femme with hard, yellow-white optics must be Solus, and the other mech seemed familiar too, but Orion wasn't sure which Prime he was.

"Optimus, this is my sister Solus, and my brothers Quintus and Logos. Do you mind if we speak with you for a few breems?"

"Of course—I mean, of course you can," Orion got up again. There were only three other chairs in the room.

"I don't need to sit," Solus said, and her voice was nearly as hard as her gaze, but not cold or unfriendly. "And don't be so flustered. It's an honor to meet you."

Orion sat down again, feeling embarrassed.

Alpha Trion sat across from him, and Quintus pulled over a chair as well, but Logos crossed his arms and took up a position across the room from Solus, who was leaning on the wall, staring watchfully at the door.

Orion waited.

"Well?" Quintus said, nudging Alpha Trion. "Do you want to start the conversation or do you want one of the rest of us to talk? We're endangering them by being here. We shouldn't take up too much of his time anyway."

Alpha Trion sighed, and Orion had never seen him look so old and tired. "Very well," he said. "First of all… I do want to apologize for… to apologize that I didn't tell you who you were until you were appointed."

Orion blinked.

"Personally, I still think you weren't ready before that… but… well, I suppose it may have been a mistake anyway."

Solus shifted, and Orion glanced up to see her rolling her optics at Logos.

Logos smiled slightly.

He seemed older than the Logos in the trial. And hadn't Yoketron suggested he was talkative? So far he hadn't said a word.

"Orion?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry. It's all right—I know you were doing what you felt was best. I suppose some warning would have been helpful, but…"

He would have broken his bond with Elita beforehand, or maybe refrained from bonding with her in the first place. If Alpha Trion had warned him, they might not have a bond now. Then again, he still wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that Elita would die if he did.

"I think…" he said. "I'm sure Primus's hand is in this, one way or another."

Alpha Trion nodded, but looked troubled. "I certainly hope so."

"Alpha Trion?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for coming to speak with me. I hesitate to ask, but… we could use your help with the war. You and your siblings."

"Help you with the war?" Alpha Trion shook his helm. "I'm afraid that's out of the question."

Logos Prime spoke up from the side of the room. "We haven't participated in Cybertronian politics for millennia. I think we'd be willing to make an excuse to help with the current situation, but there are other things we have to see to first."

Orion nodded for him to continue.

"Our brother Megatronus is at large on Cybertron—"

"Wait…" Orion said. "But… wasn't he killed? I know Primus can bring you back, but why would he…"

"Megatronus is cursed," Quintus explained, optics lighting up. "He can't return to the Allspark, so his spark hangs around for a while after he's offline. He's like a parasite… When he's killed, he floats around, invisible, until he finds a new host, and then he overtakes that mech's frame, destroying the spark that was there. It's actually quite—"

"Horrifying," Logos cut him off. "And irrelevant."

Quintus pouted. Orion was so surprised to see a member of the Original Thirteen Primes look so sulky that what the mech had just said almost didn't register.

"Wait… Megatronus…"

"The bottom line," Logos said from his position against the wall, "Is that he's hunting us. We have to capture him or he'll pick us off one by one, and then probably come after you."

Orion stared at him.

"And that would be very bad," Quintus said.

"Aside from Megatronus trying to kill us," Logos said. "Vector's missing, and we need to find him—or at least confirm that he's offline."

"We'd be a few steps closer to that if Mal hadn't lost my sparking samples." Quintus muttered.

"I am sorry we can't help more," Alpha Trion said. "But as you can see we have our own problems to worry about."

"It is understandable," Orion said.

"However," Solus said. "While we may not be able to take up positions in your army, don't hesitate to ask us for help."

"Thank you."

"Now," Alpha Trion said. "There are a few things I'd like to discuss. The first is a question. When you and Megatron were friends, how much did you tell him about the archives?"

Orion blinked. "I… well, we spoke extensively about history. The archives have a lot of important information and—"

"Specifically," Alpha Trion said. "Did you tell him anything about the artifacts in my possession? If he knows there are items stored there that could give him the power to defeat you, he may attack the Hall of Records."

Orion looked down, checking his memory files. "I… I don't _think_ I ever talked to him about the artifacts."

"Good," Alpha Trion said. "Now, Yoketron tells me you completed the third trial?"

Orion nodded. "Did he… say anything about—"

"Yes, he did," Alpha Trion scowled. "I'm sure he's very pleased with himself for jeopardizing the wellbeing of the entire planet…" he shook his helm. "What's done is done."

Quintus looked up. "Did I miss something? What happened?"

"We'll discuss it later," Solus said. "I'm sure you'll have fun trying to figure out the science behind it, because I certainly can't. I'm just glad it worked and didn't kill anyone."

"In any case," Alpha Trion said. "You must not delay completing the next trial. Has Yoketron spoken to you about it?"

"Yes," Orion said. "Though he's only said that it sometimes takes decaorns to complete, so I'll need to plan time. He says he won't tell me more until I make time to attempt it."

Alpha Trion nodded. "Good. At least he's not explaining _everything_ to you beforehand just to spite me."

"Honestly, Alph, I wouldn't blame him," Solus crossed her arms. "He probably hates administering the trials. Remind me why you aren't doing that part again?"

Alpha Trion shook his helm. "Beside the point."

"Oh," Orion said. "Before I forget, I was going to ask if you would be at the Council Hall next orn. I'm supposed to appear before the Council."

Alpha Trion shook his helm. "I quit the Council," he said. "And you shouldn't go—it's not safe to meet with them."

"I promised them I would," Orion said. "You… quit the Council?"

Alpha Trion nodded.

"Did they say you couldn't bring anyone?" Solus asked. "I'm a little curious to see if Trion is exaggerating about this government."

"Believe me, I've been understating it," Alpha Trion muttered.

"I can bring Logos, or maybe Liege with me," Solus said. "We'd make sure you got out of there in one piece if that's what you're worried about."

"That… would be very helpful," Orion said. "Thank you."

Solus nodded.

"Is there anything else?" Alpha Trion said. "I believe we've said what we came to say."

A thousand questions swirled in his mind, but what he really wanted to know… he took in a deep vent and let it out. "Am I… doing all right?"

Alpha Trion raised an optic ridge. "Excuse me?"

"I mean… as a Prime?"

"Don't sound so uncertain," Alpha Trion said.

"But…"

"You _are_ the Last Prime from the Covenant of Primus. You were chosen by Primus himself. Have confidence in your calling."

"But… I don't," Orion said. "I'm not really… I still feel like just an archivist most of the time."

"There's nothing wrong with being an archivist," Alpha Trion told him. "But you have always been more than that. Remember that Primus chose you for a reason. Even if you don't trust anyone else, you have to trust Primus."

Orion nodded.

"Trust your spark, as well," Alpha Trion said. "What you need to do is monumental, and you will not always have help. My siblings and I will do what we can, but depending on events in the future, we may not be around much. There are things in the Covenant that suggest most of us will not be present for your struggle against Megatron. In fact, many of us may be offline for most of it."

"W-wait," Orion said, looking around at the now somber Primes in his office. "Doesn't Primus bring you back when you offline?"

"Not anymore," Alpha Trion said.

Orion stared at him.

"You… may not have access to Primus's direct guidance forever either," Alpha Trion said.

"I think you're just scaring him more, Alph," Quintus said. "Young mech, you're doing fine, and you _can_ win this war and defeat Megatron."

Orion wasn't so certain he wanted that.

"What?" Alpha Trion asked.

"I… perhaps this is foolishness, but…"

"But what?" Alpha Trion asked.

"I'm not sure I want to defeat Megatron. I still hope he can be reasoned with. We were friends—"

Alpha Trion snorted. "No. I doubt he is capable of having friends. It's not entirely his fault—fate dealt that one a difficult hand. But you cannot let your past stop you from fulfilling your destiny."

"I believe there's still good in him somewhere." It sounded silly to him now that Orion had said it out loud, but when he looked up, Solus nodded at him. "I don't want to kill him if I don't have to."

Alpha Trion shook his helm. "Read the Covenant of Primus, Optimus."

"I've read it."

"Read it again. One shall stand. One shall fall. No middle ground. You cannot reach a compromise."

"I don't know if I can beat him."

Silence fell.

Alpha Trion leaned in closer. "Read the Covenant again with new optics. Whenever you're not sure what to do next, refer to the words Primus gave me. Even _I_ can barely decipher them, but when there's something I'm searching for, I often find it among them."

Orion met his brilliant white optics.

"Things will look very bad in the future. In fact, most of the time, you will probably feel like you're losing. But so long as you don't give up, you will not fail."

Despite the encouragement, fear crept into Orion's spark. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"Do you know why my siblings and I don't rule Cybertron?" Alpha Trion asked.

Orion shook his helm slightly, unable to look away from his old mentor.

"Primus, in his wisdom, rarely gives the greatest burdens to those who are foolish enough to ask for them. Instead, they are bestowed upon those who are humble enough to accept them."

But…

"Without complaining," Alpha Trion continued.

Orion shuttered his optics.

"Now," Alpha Trion said. "We must go."

"Thank you for coming," Orion said. "Is… everything going well with the Hall of Records?"

Alpha Trion's gaze softened. "Yes," he said. "As well as it can, I suppose. We all miss you there."

Orion smiled, though the comment had made him homesick. He shouldn't have brought the archives up.

Alpha Trion stood. "I hope we meet again soon, Optimus Prime," he said.

Orion wished his mentor would use his old designation.

"Take care," Alpha Trion said, and turned to leave.

"It was good to meet you," Quintus said, then followed Alpha Trion.

Logos tilted his helm to the side as his brothers walked past and met Orion's gaze. "How long did it take you to complete my trial?" he asked.

"Only a few orns," Orion said. "I tried six or seven times."

Logos shook his helm. "Yoketron told you what to do, didn't he?"

"No," Orion said. "I don't think he knew. I figured it out on my own."

Logos sighed, looking frustrated.

"Why is it so important?"

"I have a running competition…" Logos said, then deflated, looking down at the ground. "Not that it matters. Good luck, mechling." He slipped out the door after his brothers.

Solus approached the desk. "I will have Alchemist send you my contact information," she said. "Let me know when you're going to meet with the Council, and I'll arrive here to escort you safely there."

"Thank you," Orion said, and Solus nodded and followed the others, closing the office door behind her.

Orion sat back in his seat, trying to integrate everything he'd just been told.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Sorry this update is a little later than normal. I'm at a family reunion, so I was busy this morning.

2\. Thanks for reading and reviewing and all that!


	29. Order

"Do you know why you're here?"

Sideswipe cocked his helm to the side. "I won a prize?"

The Praxian did not look amused. Sideswipe knew him, or at least his type. He was one of those stuck-up, 'show me respect or you will regret it' mecha who thought they were in charge but were actually just hated by everyone. All organizations had them—schools, companies, governments, Quantum… he wasn't surprised that the Autobots had some too.

"What is your designation?" the Praxian demanded.

Schoolteacher mode. Trying to put Sideswipe on the spot and embarrass him. Good luck with that. Hmm… Sideswipe didn't want to make him _too_ angry. "Sideswipe, sir," he said with an over-exaggerated salute and as much sickening cheerfulness as he could muster.

The mech's stern expression didn't change at all, but somehow his glare intensified. A worthy opponent.

They stood in a group of about fifteen mecha who had apparently incurred the wrath of the Autobot leadership. Sideswipe was pretty sure he knew why he and Sunstreaker were here. And it was likely the others were gathered for a similar reason.

"For most of you," the mech said. "This is the second time in a row you disobeyed orders during a battle. That will not be tolerated. We gave you all a warning last time. This time, there will be punishment."

Sideswipe frowned. That word had haunted him his entire life.

"All of you will be assigned to clean and restock the energon hall for two decaorns."

Not the worst punishment, but annoying. He and Sunstreaker could probably figure out how to get out of it. More interestingly, this mech's voice sounded kind of familiar…

"And if there is a third infraction, you will spend some time in a detention center."

Sideswipe raised his hand.

The Praxian ignored him. "You are all…"

"We have a detention center?" Sideswipe cut in.

"Not yet," the other mech said.

"What if we disobey orders during a battle again before you have one?"

"Then we will ask the Council if we can borrow a jail cell somewhere."

"Doesn't that tower place have like vaults and stuff?"

"Mirage would rather we not use…" The mech trailed off and then seemed to realize Sideswipe was trying to goad him into an argument.

"Does he keep cool stuff in them?"

"You do not have permission to speak."

"You're the mech who gives the orders out on the battlefield," Sideswipe said. "I recognize your voice."

"All of you are dismissed," the Praxian said through gritted denta. "Except for you, Sideswipe. Thank you."

The others left, except for Sunstreaker. Sideswipe was disappointed. This mech had bailed too quickly. Too smart and not angry enough—though he did seem pretty angry.

"I said you are dismissed." The Praxian turned to regard Sideswipe's brother.

"I'm with him," Sunstreaker jerked his helm in Sideswipe's direction.

"We're twins," Sideswipe explained.

"I see," the mech said. He seemed fairly composed, but Sideswipe wondered if this mech was feeling a little intimidated. After all, he was outnumbered, and much smaller than either of the twins.

"Very well," the Praxian said. "Sideswipe and…"

"Sunstreaker."

"I am serious about imprisoning you," the Praxian said. "This is not a matter to take lightly. Failing to follow orders in a battlefield situation can cost the lives of your fellow soldiers or even your own life."

Sideswipe raised an optic ridge. What the frag was a 'battlefield situation' supposed to be? He could just say 'during a battle' or something, couldn't he? "We've only had like two battles. And there haven't been any wars since the Quintesson wars. Don't act like you're some sort of seasoned general. You _are_ the mech telling us what to do out there, right?"

"That is correct."

"So you're as new to this as we are."

The mech's doorwings flicked irritably. "That does not change the factuality of what I just said. You endanger lives when you disobey orders. Do you or don't you understand that?"

"Ok, fine, whatever," Sideswipe said. "But what if _you_ make a mistake, and my disobeying you _saves_ lives."

"That is not your concern."

"It fragging well is. I've got to keep myself in one piece."

The mech's expression hardened. "I'm not in the business of making mistakes. I am also not in the business of arguing with lowly ground troops. And if you're in this to save yourself, then maybe you joined the wrong army."

"Maybe we did," Sideswipe said. "Mr. High and Mighty. What's _your_ designation?"

"You are dismissed."

"That's a funny designation."

The mech glared at him. "Get out!"

Sideswipe figured he'd better not push his luck or he'd end up with a longer punishment. He led the way out of the building and toward the big warehouse where they were supposed to be training. Sometimes, he still questioned their decision to join this army, but he'd met Optimus at one point, and he thought that the Prime was a good mech, and Ironhide too. So even if all of the other mecha in charge of the Autobots were stuck up nobles and the like…

"Maybe we _did_ join the wrong army," Sunstreaker said.

"Nah," Sideswipe said. "We can't back out. We owe a life debt. We're Autobots and we'll stay Autobots. Besides, there are probably lots of troublemakers among the Decepticons already. Wouldn't want to get crowded out, you know."

"Of course not."

* * *

Jazz followed the mech from a distance until the streets emptied. He'd been wandering around Iacon for an orn and a half, sticking to shadier places, looking for any clues about those mecha who'd detonated buildings during the fight. A whole bunch of civilians had seen them so he had a lot of descriptions, but no one knew who they were.

He finally had a lead, though. He'd heard this mech at an energon bar talking about the incident in a way that suggested he knew more than hearsay. Jazz didn't recognize the mech from any of the specific descriptions he'd been given, but there was a slight Kaon accent in his voice, which was somewhat suspicious.

Jazz had gone to talk to him, but the mech had insisted he really didn't know anything.

So Jazz had left the bar, then hung out on the corner, waiting for the mech to leave so he could follow.

Now, after several breems of driving through the perpetual Iacon dimness, Jazz followed his mark down a side road, engine quiet, lights off. The mech transformed and knocked on the door of a nearby house. Light and sound filled the street for a moment while the door was open, and then quiet descended again.

Jazz crept closer. It had sounded like a lot of mecha in there. Big mecha with deep, booming voices.

The civilians had described large, intimidating mecha herding them out of their homes before luring the Decepticons inside, then blowing the buildings up. So this could be them.

Jazz looked for a back way in. He did find a window but it was in full view of a large group of mecha sitting around a table, talking. Jazz boosted his audios to try and pick up on their conversation as he peered cautiously through the window, but they didn't seem to be saying anything useful, and it was hard to pick out the words since multiple conversations were happening at once.

He positioned himself so he could just see over the windowsill. His visor made it easier to spy on mecha, since they couldn't see his optics, and would be less likely to recognize him as a person.

The mecha at the table were a motley group—some large and powerfully built, others smaller. He was pleased to recognize a couple of the more distinctive mecha from the descriptions he'd been given. He'd found them. These were the ones he was looking for.

He watched them for a few breems, trying to gauge how dangerous they were. Some seemed to have weapons, and two or three had the pointed fingertips and stylistic armor of southern hemisphere gladiators. Were these mecha all from Kaon, then? Were they some sort of renegade anti-Decepticon group?

Jazz probably shouldn't sneak in and trap himself with these mecha just in case they turned on him. But he _did_ want to talk to them and find out more about them, and he wasn't patient enough to just hang around and observe.

Pit, one of them was staring at him. Jazz froze until the mech turned away, and then ducked away from the window and scaled the wall up to a deep, dark alcove higher on the building.

A few astroseconds later, one of the mecha from inside came out and stood, staring at the window. He put a hand to his helm. "You're seeing things, mech," he said. "There ain't nothing here… which… sure… who the frag would be watching us anyway?... whatever, I'm coming back in."

Jazz watched him go, thoughtful.

He was probably supposed to comm. Mainspring now he'd found them. They'd caused property damage and civilian casualties, on top of attacking the Decepticons without authorization.

Mainspring would probably want to have these mechs arrested.

And Jazz thought that was stupid.

He would be a pretty big hypocrite if he turned these mecha in. They _had_ blown up a couple of buildings, but it seemed like they'd been trying to help the Autobots. He needed to talk to them before he notified enforcement. He had to see if they could be reasoned with—see if they were willing to work with him.

Then again, enlistment was open to everyone and these mecha had decided to work on their own instead of signing up.

Jazz commed Mainspring and had to wait about a breem for him to answer.

" _Yes? What is it?"_

" _I'm about ta do something stupid,"_ Jazz said.

"… _What?"_

" _Well, I found those mecha we were looking for. Ya know, those ones who blew up some 'Cons during the battle."_

"… _all right."_

" _I'm gonna go talk ta them."_

" _Why is that stupid?"_

" _Cuz they're probably pretty dangerous, and I'll be cornered and outnumbered. So if I send ya my location sometime in the next couple of breems, it probably means I'm in trouble and ya should send me back-up."_

" _Maybe I should send you back-up first."_

" _Nah, I wanna talk ta them, see if they'll tell me what they were tryin' ta do, and what side they're on. I might be able ta convince them ta join the Autobots."_

" _You'll probably have to ask Orion's permission for that,"_ Mainspring said. _"These mecha seem somewhat destructive. In fact, we should probably turn them over to enforcement."_

Just as Jazz had suspected. _"Well, let me talk ta them first, anyway."_

" _All right. Be careful."_

" _Be ready,"_ Jazz replied and cut the comm.

Then he carefully climbed down from the alcove and went to press the entry request on the front door.

* * *

"Come in," Orion said. His office door opened and a vaguely familiar mech with an Elite Guard symbol on his shoulder came in.

"Good orn," Orion said. Red Alert hadn't commed him to warn him he had a visitor, so he'd expected someone from the command element.

"Prime, Sir," the mech bowed slightly.

"Are you here from the Council? I can't meet with them until later in the on-cycle.

"No, Sir. Ironhide suggested I come speak with you, Sir."

"Oh," Orion said. "All right." He gestured for the mech to sit in the chair across from him. The guard hesitated, then walked over.

"Please, sit," Orion said.

The mech did so.

"What did you want to speak with me about?"

"Well, Sir," the guard said. "There are two things. The Elite Guard… many of us would like to join the Autobots."

Orion nodded. "We would be happy to have you."

"It would mean breaking our oath to serve the Council, but some of us have already been violating that by passing information to you through Ironhide."

Orion looked down. "I'm sorry to put you in that situation."

"Considering the things we've all seen the Council do, Sir, it's a relief to have an excuse to forsake them in favor of a better cause. It was unforgivable the way they refused to speak with you last orn during the Decepticon attack. I mean, it's not as unforgivable as some of the things they've done in the past, but…"

"Again," Orion said. "I cannot encourage you to break oaths you have made. But we would be happy to have anyone who's willing to join us…"

Though if the Elite Guard left the Council… the Council still needed to be protected.

"The second thing, Sir," the mech said. "Is that High Councilor Halogen intends to use the meeting this orn to try and establish control over you by threatening to withhold the Key to Vector Sigma."

Well, that wasn't much of a surprise.

"Barring that, he may have you arrested," the guard continued. "I recommend that you refuse to meet with them."

Everyone seemed to recommend that. But Solus Prime had said she would accompany him. That should make things a lot safer. "Thank you for the information. I will take it into account."

"You're still going to meet with them?"

Orion nodded. "I am. And… if it's possible, I'd like you to stay and protect the Council."

"Why?" the mech asked.

"Because they _do_ have the Key to Vector Sigma. And because—as corrupt as they are—the Council is essential in keeping order in Iacon."

The mech's optics hardened. "Is that what you care about, then? Do you have any idea… some of the things the Council does…"

"I know,"

"But you think they're a necessary evil?"

"No," Orion said. "I think there are better ways to deal with them than betraying them."

The mech shook his helm. "Ironhide swears you're not in league with them, but maybe we can't trust him either." He stood. "Thank you for speaking with me, Sir."

"Wait!" Orion said.

The mech stopped halfway to the door and turned around.

"What would you do?" Orion asked. "In my position. The Council is beyond corrupt, but I can barely run this army—I don't want to have to run the government as well. Ask your fellow guardsmechs to stay with the Council for now, until we are prepared to put something better in its place."

The mech sighed. "Very well, Prime, Sir," he said. "The large majority of us are prepared to swear loyalty to you, as soon as you give the word."

"Thank you," Orion said.

The mech nodded, and left the room.

Almost as soon as he'd gone, Orion got a comm. from Jazz, which he answered promptly.

"Good orn, Jazz. Do you have something to report?"

" _Yep,"_ Jazz said. _"Ya got some time before ya have ta go see Yoketron?"_

"Yes. What is it?"

" _Remember those explosions last orn?"_

Orion sat up straighter. "Did you find out who set them off?"

" _Yeah!"_ Jazz sounded pleased with himself. _"And I've pretty much recruited them."_

Orion hesitated. "Recruited?"

" _For my department,"_ Jazz said. _"Of course, Mainspring wants ya ta talk ta them first, and their leaders want ta talk ta you too."_

"Who are they?" Orion asked.

" _Bunch of random mecha from Kaon, Tarn, and other cities near the south pole. Gladiators, laborers, technicians, that sort of thing. They actually helped out a little with the Slaughter City battle, but we didn't notice it."_

Something about this didn't seem quite right. "But… if they wanted to help us, why didn't they just enlist?"

" _Um… I think some of them are wanted mecha… not ta mention, I don't think they like rules much. But after they talk ta you, I'm sure they'll be happy to join. I don't think they'd make good ground troops, but I can work with them."_

"I'm… not so sure about this."

" _Ya let me join,"_ Jazz said. _"And in any case, Mainspring says ya have ta talk ta them first. If ya don't think we can trust them, or they decide they don't want ta follow you, then there'll just be some respectful declining and everything'll be fine. But mech, please, give them a chance. I think they could really help us."_

Orion sighed. "All right. Are they ready to talk now? I have some time before I meet with Master Yoketron."

" _Yeah. I brought them about a block away from the tower. I'll send ya coordinates. I don't_ think _they'll try anything, but ya might want ta bring someone cuz I'm not sure I could take both of them if they_ do."

"How… dangerous are these mecha?"

" _Eh, it'll probably be fine."_

"All right," Orion said. "I'm coming."

He got up from his desk and left his room. Ironhide wasn't here, and Orion didn't want to bother anyone else.

Red Alert commed him over an internal frequency as he was walking toward the elevator. _"Prime! Where are you going?"_

" _I'm going to meet some mecha Jazz wants me to talk to."_

Orion braced himself.

" _What! You can't do that! There's no way we can trust Jazz."_

" _I'll take some guards if it makes you feel better."_

" _You think my_ security guards _can stop Jazz?"_

" _I trust Jazz,"_ Orion said as he stepped into the elevator, but Red Alert's words had made him think. Given Jazz's reputation, if _he_ was worried about these mecha overpowering them, they were probably very dangerous…

But these mecha just wanted to talk to him. There was no reason to be paranoid.

He left the building and went to the coordinates Jazz had told him about. There were many such buildings beneath the high towers. They were usually home to servants or guards or other mecha who worked for the nobles. Mirage owned a handful of them, and the Autobots used them for various purposes.

Jazz beckoned him inside, where two mecha waited for him. Both of them were unusually large and intimidating.

And Orion recognized one of them…

"Prime," the unfamiliar one nodded to him.

"Good orn," Orion said, then turned to the second mech. "Springer, right?"

"Yeah," the mech said, grinning. "Sorry about the mess we left during the battle."

"Yes," Orion said. "I heard about that."

The other mech crossed his arms. "You are Optimus Prime?"

"Yeah," Jazz said, coming to stand slightly in front of Orion. "Optimus, this is Impactor and Springer—guess ya already know Springer."

"Yes, we met once before," Orion said. He felt more comfortable now that he knew Springer was one of the mecha he was meeting with. The big green gladiator hadn't attacked him the last time they'd talked.

He turned his attention to the other mech—Impactor. "It's good to meet you too. Jazz says you have some interest in joining the Autobots."

"That's stretching it a little," Impactor said. "We are interested in preventing invading armies from taking over city-states. So far, I'm not sure if your side's much better."

"You may have heard rumors about—"

"No," Impactor said. "It's not the rumors. My friends and I have problems with authority in general. I've seen it corrupt too many mecha."

Orion met the mech's optics and saw a frightening hardness in them, and none of the friendliness that Springer gave off.

He took in a deep vent. "Well, we're grateful for your willingness to help us fight the Decepticons, and your help during the battle last orn… however, you caused a lot more damage to the city and its citizens than strictly necessary."

"Necessity is sometimes a matter of opinion," Impactor said.

"I… don't think it is," Orion said.

"You know, Optimus Prime," Impactor said. "I lived in Tarn before I got my current group of mecha together. Almost all of my old friends joined the Decepticons."

Orion let silence fall before speaking again. "Why didn't you?"

"I heard a couple of Megatronus's speeches," Impactor said. "And it was apparent to me that he's a delusional mechling. He spoke of rising up and ridding the world of oppression, which is slag. I've been around long enough to know that's not how it works."

Orion wondered how old he was. There was nothing frail or elderly in his motions or his gaze.

"Of course y _ou_ are but a mechling yourself, even if you're also a Prime. I'm wary of placing myself under any obligation to follow orders from someone with so little experience. I prefer to do things my own way anyway."

"Unfortunately, that's problematic," Orion said. "What you did could have been a disaster if it had happened in the wrong place at the wrong time. And even though it didn't impede us this time, you _did_ kill a lot of mecha in those explosions, including civilians."

Impactor crossed his arms. "What's a couple of civilians? They'd just have been captured by the Decepticons anyway. We probably prevented more casualties than we caused."

Orion met Impactor's optics. "I'm sorry," he said. "If you do not care about civilian casualties, then perhaps we can't work together. As the Prime, I am responsible for every Cybertronian life, and I expect the mecha who fight under me to take that seriously."

Impactor shrugged, but a grim smile tugged at his lip plates. "Maybe we can't."

Silence fell between them.

"I'm all for joining the Autobots," Springer said.

"I know you are, you're almost as much of a stupid idealist as this one," Impactor jerked his helm in Orion's direction.

"I think we should give him a chance anyway. Come on, if we keep showing up to cause trouble, they'll arrest us, right? Isn't that what happens when you break the law too many times?"

"I take it back, you're a fragging sparkling," Impactor shook his helm, then looked back at Orion. "Look, I actually do want to join you. I'll even play it by your rules if you like. But you're going to have to convince me that you deserve my help. Why should I be an Autobot?"

Orion took in a deep vent. Impactor wanted him to make his case. He'd said these words so many times to news reporters and groups of mecha he probably had them memorized…

"And I don't want your media faceplate," Impactor said, as if reading Orion's processor. "I want the truth. Straightforward; no gold paint. Reality. Who are you, Optimus Prime? And what exactly is it you're trying to do here?"

Orion met his optics, unsure. If he told the whole truth—how he didn't know if he could do this, how he wished he could just go back to being a librarian, how he worried he would never be good enough at fighting to actually go out on a battlefield, how he wasn't really entirely a Prime yet, how he was so desperately afraid of his friends dying, how he still wanted to try to reason with Megatron despite the fact that everyone told him it was impossible… If he told this mech the truth, he was almost certain Impactor would refuse to follow him. Orion was no leader, not really.

But Impactor was right to want the truth. He deserved the truth. Everymech deserved the truth. Orion took in a deep vent. "My designation is… well _was…_ Orion Pax. Before this, I was an archivist. I have no experience leading an army. I am not a fighter. Most of the time… I don't really know why I'm here…"

* * *

Mirage walked through the streets of Kaon, pondering the unfortunate conundrum. He had already discovered some interesting information, but the _really_ useful information was in places that he couldn't go without risking Soundwave catching him.

He didn't want Soundwave to catch him.

So he kept to the streets on the edge of the central sector, listening in to conversations, trying to find important-looking mecha to follow, and staying far away from the Decepticon base of operations.

It was almost…boring. Honestly and truly, playing the high tower games—listening in to the other noblemecha, rooting out their secrets—had been much more interesting than trudging through dirty streets trying to glean information from the scum of society.

To say that Mirage had been very good at playing the high tower games would be an understatement. He could have had anything he wanted. Any secret, any alliance. Of course, he didn't really want the hassle of trying to keep everyone from hunting down _his_ secrets, so he'd stayed in the background, mostly watching, invisible. Mirage's modification was quite a gift. Not only did it create a complex illusion that hid him from sight, it also cloaked him from every kind of sensor and masked his sound. Prowl seemed to know he was there sometimes. That bothered him. Maybe the mech was just guessing. Mirage couldn't muster the humility to ask him how he did it, though.

He kept wandering around. He learned that Megatron was forcing more mecha to work in the mines. That was probably where the civilian prisoners he'd taken from Iacon were going. He hadn't heard anything about that, though. Apparently Megatron didn't want his loyal citizens to know that he was kidnapping and enslaving civilians from other cities. The public opinion of him already wasn't great. Mecha seemed to think he was better than the previous establishment, but not by much. Some argued against him, but usually only among friends. There were rumors that if you were an Autobot sympathizer, you'd get sent to the mines, or worse.

It was textbook definition tyranny. Some defended him by claiming that at least he was all about the common mech, and that in his system, there was no elite class to lord over everyone else. But he only fought for the common mecha who supported him, and abused those who disagreed with his methods. That was one of the big differences between him and Orion. Orion cared about everyone, even those who didn't support him.

The claim that there was no elite class was a lie as well. You couldn't _have_ a government without some mecha being higher up than others. It just wasn't possible. What was Megatron, if not nobility? He even called himself "Lord" Megatron.

He was a hypocrite. Or, if not that, at least delusional. Completely insane.

Mirage paused to look toward the Decepticon base. Maybe if he was careful…

No. Not only would that be disobeying Jazz's orders, Mirage didn't want to put himself in more danger than he had to. A healthy sense of self-preservation was a good trait for a spy to have. It kept you alive, kept you from getting captured.

Speaking of being a good spy, it was time to report in. Mirage found an empty alleyway where no one was likely to disturb him, and pulled out a datapad to type up a quick summary of what he'd learned and how everything was going. He would encrypt it and send it over a frequency that the Decepticons couldn't detect. It had taken a while for Jazz to explain how to do it, but Mirage had understood eventually.

He finished and sent the message, then went back out into the streets.


	30. The Next Step

"Very good," Yoketron said. "I think that will be enough for the orn."

Orion bowed.

"Before you leave, though," the Circuit-Su master continued. "We should discuss the completion of the fourth trial."

Yes. That had been lurking at the back of his processor, but he didn't want to address it at the moment. He was stressed enough thinking about his impending meeting with the Council.

"Orion?"

"I'm sorry," Orion said. "Yes, we do need to discuss it. But… it's a difficult prospect. I can't just leave for an undetermined amount of time."

"You must complete this trial." Yoketron said. "You can't skip it."

Orion sighed. "I know. Can we… discuss this another orn? I have a lot to think about right now, and many things to do this orn."

"We've put it off long enough, don't you think?" Yoketron asked. "I haven't even told you what the trial is. I know a little more about this one than the first three."

Orion tried to push nervousness about meeting the Council out of his helm. "All right," he said. "What happens in this trial?"

Yoketron nodded. "The fourth trial is Vector Prime's. Once you enter it, you will forget that you are not really experiencing the things the trial simulates. The object of the trial is to discover that you are in a virtual reality, and choose to leave it."

That didn't sound too bad, unless… "What happens in the virtual reality?"

"Nothing terrible," Yoketron said. "Reportedly, it's one of the more pleasant trials. In fact, that's the point. The false reality is your perfect world, where everything is the way you wish it would be. That's part of the challenge—you have to choose to come back to reality."

Orion felt cold. "I have to _choose_ to come back from a perfect world?"

"A bit cruel, isn't it?" Yoketron asked, smiling sadly. "But I suppose it's a necessary step toward accepting your calling. The unfortunate thing in our case is that there's no way to predict beforehand how long you'll be in the trial. It's been known to take mecha more than a quartex, and I believe one mech was in the trial for nearly a vorn."

That would be a disaster.

Yoketron seemed to read his expression. "There will be no convenient time for you to begin. You'll simply have to pick a date, and let the others know that you will be gone for a few orns, maybe a decaorn or two. The shortest recorded time is ten joors…. But I believe the average is about eight or nine orns, if you exclude the ridiculous outliers."

"That is still too long."

"It must be done," Yoketron said. "There is no way around it. And the longer you put it off, the busier you're going to get. Do you think this war is going to calm down as time goes on? Believe me, Megatron's just getting started. I am sorry this is difficult for you, but you are racing the clock here. You cannot afford to wait."

Orion took in a deep vent. "Very well. I will start the trial within the decaorn… hopefully Megatron won't attack again so soon after his attack on Iacon."

"Thank you," Yoketron said. "Now, you are free to go. Good luck in your meeting with the Council this orn."

"Thank you." Orion bowed again, and left the crystal garden.

* * *

"Lord Megatron."

"I do not have the patience for you this orn, Starscream."

Starscream stepped forward, hesitantly approaching his leader's throne. He bowed deeply. "I merely wanted to congratulate you on the successful battle at Iacon," Starscream said, hoping to placate the warlord. He had been waiting a long time to come before Megatron with this proposal.

"Really?" Megatron narrowed his angry red optics. "Is that _really_ why you're here?"

"Well…" Starscream sad. "I also thought I'd bring forth a brilliant idea that I have been working on—something to ensure that we keep the upper hand—something that will simultaneously crush the Autobots' reputation, and that will make our army unbeatable."

He waited, feeling the full force of Megatron's glare.

"Very well," the warlord said at length. "As long as explaining your idea doesn't take as eternally _long_ as Blackangle's assassination attempt is."

Blackangle scowled at them from the other side of the throne room.

Starscream smirked at him in response. Blackangle was dangerous, like Soundwave. They were Megatron's most trusted advisors. If Starscream could outdo them—which of course he could—he might become second in command. "Don't worry. This is much better than a doomed assassination attempt." He paused for dramatic effect. "I know how to get you the most valuable resource on all of Cybertron."

"Really?" Megatron said. "And what exactly _is_ this resource?"

"The loyalty of every seeker on the planet."

Megatron didn't look convinced.

Blackangle snorted. "What are you going to do? Annoy them into submission? Didn't they kick you out of their city?"

Starscream glared at Blackangle, but addressed Megatron."Have my plans ever disappointed you, milord? Have my services not been invaluable up to this point? I only ask that you hear me out."

There was a pause as the former gladiator considered. Eventually, he nodded. "Continue."

* * *

Orion stepped through the front doors of the Council Building, feeling significantly more certain of himself than he recalled feeling the last time he was here. This time he had Solus Prime accompanying him, along with a lanky mech who she'd introduced as Amalgamous.

Orion led the way through the hall, with the other two following him.

"I might have a look around," Amalgamous muttered.

"Stick with us," Solus snapped. "And behave yourself."

Amalgamous huffed. "When do I ever misbehave?"

They approached the doors to the Council Chamber.

"Prime." One of the guards at the door greeted him. "They are expecting you."

"Thank you," Orion said, and waited for them to open the doors.

"Your friend will have to stay out here."

Solus stepped forward. "We are his guards," she said. "We won't interfere."

The guards at the door glanced at each other, and Optimus couldn't tell if they were confused or skeptical.

"We?" one of them said, turning back to Solus.

"Wait…" the other one said. "Wasn't there another mech walking with you?"

Orion turned to see that Amalgamous had disappeared.

"Where did he go?" the guard continued.

"I'm not certain." Solus sounded annoyed. "In any case, we can't waste the Prime's precious time—he is here to see the Council. Please allow us to enter."

Something in her voice discouraged argument. The guards glanced at each other once more, and then opened the doors.

Orion stepped inside and Solus followed silently. On one hand he was grateful for her protection, but on the other, her presence made him more nervous. He didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of one of the Original Thirteen, and most of the time the Council could talk circles around him.

"Welcome, Optimus Prime," Halogen peered down at him. "It is good to see you have honored our agreement. However, your guest will have to leave."

Orion took in a deep vent, trying not to be afraid. He felt Elita's support through their bond. "I have honored our agreement in coming to speak with you. This femme is my guard and is merely here to ensure that I leave the Council Hall safely after our meeting."

"I assure you, the Council Hall is well protected. The Elite Guard will be more than sufficient to ensure your safety."

Optimus wondered if Halogen knew just how true that was. If the Council ordered him arrested, and he asked the guards to turn on them… he wasn't even sure what would happen. Maybe that was another good reason to ask them to stay with the Council, though. Just in case.

"I am here to speak with you as you agreed," Optimus said, determined not to get flustered or lose his cool. "And I don't want to take up too much of your time with unnecessary arguments. It has come to my attention that we are not prepared for an attack on Iacon. Many of the other at-risk city-states have been willing to set up a response plan with us in the case of an attack. However we have been unable to work with you on that. The fact that it took you several breems to respond to us cost us the battle here."

"Hmm," Halogen said. "I believe last time we spoke, you assured us you wanted nothing to do with us and that you didn't need our help. Besides, it takes time to shut down the commercial groundbridges."

"You didn't even answer my comm. until—"

"Is this relevant, Prime?" Halogen calmly cut him off. "We don't want to take up too much of _your_ time."

Optimus shuttered his optics. He shouldn't get angry. He needed to try and talk to them, work with them. His city was vulnerable, and if he wanted to fend off another attack on it he would need these mecha to help him.

"We did not summon you here to discuss the attack on Iacon, though it is true that it could have gone differently if you were on better terms with us."

If _he_ was on better terms with _them?_ Orion glanced at Solus, hoping she didn't think this was his fault, as Halogen was suggesting. But he couldn't tell what she was thinking—her faceplate was impassive and her pale yellow optics were calm.

"We summoned you here to discuss your status as a Prime," Halogen said. "It has become apparent to the Council that we were premature in appointing you. At the time it seemed prudent, but much has changed since then."

Orion stared up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Young mech, you are neither qualified nor trustworthy enough for the title. The insurrections of your terrorist organization before the war began summarily disqualify you from your current position."

But… they couldn't do anything about that, could they? He was already appointed.

"However, since we are unable to lift your initial appointment, and since you have been so effective at rallying the masses to our army, we can offer you a chance to prove your worthiness."

Optimus had thought he was prepared for this meeting, but now he wasn't sure. Anything he said in his defense would probably sound stupid, and fall on deaf audios anyway.

"I… prove myself?"

"Yes," Halogen said. "We believe it is time for you to go on the offensive. Your associate, Megatron, draws more mecha and influence to him every orn. If you want to be victorious in this conflict, you must act decisively before he gains too much strength. We've decided to add extra incentive. Upon the defeat of the Decepticon army, we will offer our approval of your position and grant you the Key to Vector Sigma, so that you may pursue the Matrix of Leadership."

Optimus stared at him.

"Do you understand?"

"You can't—"

"I remind you," Halogen said. "You may mock our authority, but that does not diminish it. You should count yourself lucky that we haven't arrested you for your past misdeeds."

Optimus glanced at Solus, hoping that perhaps she would help him. She returned his gaze with a coolness that confirmed she would not.

He looked back at Halogen, trying to figure out what to say. He didn't want to go on the offensive and attack the Decepticons, _especially_ not before he had the Matrix of Leadership to guide him.

"Well, Prime?" Halogen said. "May we take your silence as acceptance of our terms?"

"No," Optimus said. "I…no. I doubt I will be able to defeat Megatron before I need the Matrix of Leadership. In fact, I doubt I will be able to defeat him without it."

"If you act now you may be able to stop him," Halogen said. "But if you continue to hesitate, you will lock yourself into a long-term conflict that will result in catastrophic loss of life. Do you really want that on your conscience, young Prime? This is why _we_ should be in command of the army, not you."

No. Maybe Orion wasn't qualified to lead an army, but he'd rather do it himself than let the Council take command.

He stood straighter. "When I require the Key to Vector Sigma," he said. "I hope, for the sake of Cybertron, that you are willing to give it to me."

"And what will you do if we refuse?" Halogen said.

Solus stepped forward then. She smoothly retrieved a large war hammer from subspace and slammed the handle into the ground with a resounding bang.

Halogen leaned back and the chamber fell silent.

"It was Primus, not you, who chose this mech." Solus's voice rang loud in the quiet room. "And if you refuse to relinquish the Key when the time comes, you will answer to the servants of Primus."

"Do not play games," Halogen said, but he looked afraid. "This femme cannot be Solus Prime. She died long ago."

"Is there anything else you need to say to them, Optimus?"

Orion shook his helm.

"Very well. I believe we will be going."

"Do not turn your back on us, mechling," Halogen said. "You will never receive the Matrix without our cooperation."

Optimus turned and followed Solus out of the room, feeling uncertain. He had wanted to work out some sort of agreement. But maybe that wasn't possible anyway.

Amalgamous met them at the front entrance.

"Well, was it boring?" he said. "Did they sit and threaten each other for a while? It was kind of quick. Did you lose your temper and kill some of them?"

"Why did you even come?' Solus demanded as they walked down the steps. "What did you do?"

"Just a little snooping," Amalgamous said. "That place is _all_ full of nasty secrets. I can practically smell them."

"Hm," Solus said. "Optimus, I apologize for involving myself at the end. I had heard enough, and I wanted to get out of there before I lost my temper. I hope I didn't cut you short."

"It's all right," Orion said. "I've never had much luck working out agreements with them anyway. Will you really help me secure the Key if they refuse to give it to me?"

"Did you promise that, Sol?" Amalgamous said. "Really?"

"Shut up," Solus said, then addressed Orion. "If we are still on-world and available when you need the Key we can help you get it."

That was more ifs than he liked.

"Or we could steal it beforehand," Amalgamous said. "That might be safer."

"No," Orion said. "I don't want to steal it if it is not absolutely necessary."

Solus nodded. "For now, let's get you back to your base."

* * *

Red Alert glared at the mech sitting across from him. He was not in the mood for meeting new mecha. Despite all of his cautions, Optimus had gone the orn before to visit the Council, and Red Alert was still getting over the anxiety from that. Furthermore, the ornly meeting would happen in less than half a joor, which was always stressful, because Red Alert couldn't watch the cameras while he was at the meeting.

"He's very qualified," Mainspring insisted from off to the side. "An excellent architect, and there's nothing sinister on his record, I promise."

You couldn't ever be too careful. "I'd like to see that record."

The mech across the table raised an optic ridge and glanced at Mainspring, but didn't say anything.

Red Alert looked into his optics, trying to sense danger in his expression. It was likely that this mech really meant no harm. Apparently, he'd joined the Autobots as a regular soldier, just before they'd started looking for architects. And it wasn't that Mainspring wasn't thorough, it was just that they had to be careful—Mainspring could be a traitor too, you never knew.

"And your designation was…"

"Inferno."

"Hmm…"

"I know," Inferno said with a nervous smile. "I don't think my creators… they wanted me to be a fire fighter you see, and I don't think they were really thinking straight…" he grinned and shrugged. "Look, I get it if you don't trust me to help you build a new base, but just know I'd be happy to help. Honestly, I'd like this more than being a soldier, but I'm all right either way."

Red Alert studied him, watching for signs of lying or discomfort. He did seem a little nervous, but it was difficult to tell exactly _what_ he was nervous about. Helping Red Alert design the new base was a good job for a Decepticon spy to worm into. There would be a lot of secrets about the base—hidden exits and storage spaces, a strong containment area for dangerous prisoners, and of course secure offices for all of the heads of departments and the leaders of their subdivisions.

They couldn't afford to let those plans fall into the hands of their enemies.

He couldn't tell if this mech was trustworthy or not. It wasn't fair. The other side had Soundwave, but there was no way for Red Alert to confidently determine whether a mech was trustworthy or not. There were probably double agents among the higher Autobot ranks already. To invite someone else into the circle of trust would be foolish.

But no matter how much he wanted to ignore the fact, he was not an architect, and couldn't plan the new base on his own. He needed help.

"Very well," he said. "I want you to know I don't trust you. But I am willing to accept your help with this. I have a meeting in ten breems, so we can't start now, but come back next orn at five joors, and meet me here in this room." He would have liked to give Inferno an office, but they didn't have an open one, and Red Alert didn't want him based outside of the tower—that was far too risky.

"Great," Inferno said. "Thank you."

Red Alert nodded. "Thank you…" the mech really did have an unfortunate designation. Oh well. It could be worse.

He went back to his office to check the security feeds and make sure he was up to date on all the things he needed to read and report on, then headed to the meeting they had every orn.

To start off the meeting, there was the usual ornly review of recruitment, resources, and recent Decepticon movement. Each department made some sort of brief report, even Red Alert.

Then Orion addressed them all. "I have an announcement to make," he said. "Next orn, I'm going to be leaving."

"What…"

"But…"

"Leave to where?" Red Alert demanded, anxiety spiking. Every time that mech left the tower, he was in at least three or four times as much danger as he was when he was here.

"There is something I need to do as part of my training to receive the Matrix of Leadership. I will return when it is finished."

"How long will it take?" Ironhide asked.

"I don't know," Orion said. "Hopefully no more than a decaorn."

"A decaorn!" Ironhide said.

Orion glanced at Prowl, and Red Alert followed his gaze. Prowl hadn't reacted much, but Red Alert was fairly sure the Praxian was panicking on the inside. He would be in charge while Orion was gone. Last time, he'd done an admirable job, though Red Alert wasn't exactly sure _how._ Of all of the heads of departments, Prowl was the only mech other than Red Alert who didn't have a team of underlings yet.

They should both probably work on that. Red Alert _was_ working on it, but he hadn't found anyone trustworthy yet to be his second in command. He wasn't sure what Prowl's problem was. Maybe Prowl was a traitor… unlikely but possible.

You couldn't be too careful.

The most likely traitor was Mirage, of course. One almost never knew where he was. It would be so easy for him to double-cross them. It would be painfully easy, too easy, and he had never been very supportive of the cause in the first place.

He was in Kaon now—at least he was _supposed_ to be.

Jazz could also be a traitor.

Orion continued. "Since the Decepticons attacked Iacon so recently, I doubt they will attack again for two decaorns at least. I will almost certainly be back by then."

"Almost certainly?" Jazz said. "Is there an upper limit ta how long this trip of yours is gonna be?"

Orion didn't answer.

"What I'm sayin' is when should we start getting worried?"

"I can't predict how long it will take," Orion said. "And there will be no way to contact me while I'm gone. I will also not be able to return early, even in the case of an emergency. I apologize for this, but it is necessary. If you begin to worry about my safety, you can contact Master Yoketron, and he will be able to reassure you that I'm all right."

"What if the Decepticons _do_ attack while you're gone?" Moonracer said.

"Prowl has always been the one to lead battles," Orion said. "Hopefully it won't come to that, but I trust him to make good decisions. Besides, I don't think it's likely the Decepticons will attack while I'm away."

"It's ten times as likely!" Red Alert snapped. "If we have Decepticon spies in this room, which I'm certain we do, then Megatron will know you've disappeared. It would be the perfect time to strike!"

"Hey," Chromia said. "Would you calm the frag down? None of us are Decepticon spies."

"You can't be sure!" Red Alert said. They weren't listening to him. They never listened to him. "Mark my words, Prime, if you leave us, something _terrible_ is bound to happen while you're gone!"

"Chromia's right," Ironhide said. "Everymech here is trustworthy. When has anyone you've accused of being a spy ever actually been a spy?"

"You don't know someone's a traitor until they stab you in the back!" Red Alert said. "I'm telling you, it's not safe! And if you're vulnerable, Prime, you'll be in a lot of danger."

"I will be with Master Yoketron," Orion said. "And he is not a spy for Megatron, Red Alert. If he was, then I would already be offline."

If they didn't listen to him, they'd pay the consequences. Red Alert had to prevent it somehow—the imminent disaster. If he was ready, he might be able to stop it, or at least lessen it. Maybe this would help flush out a traitor. If the Decepticons tried something while Optimus was gone, Red Alert would have proof the Autobot ranks were compromised. He crossed his arms, scowling. He would need to be extra careful until the Prime was back. He might even want to hold off on working on the new base so he could keep an optic on things for the next few orns.

The rest of the meeting was just more reports, and some more discussion about what was going to happen and who'd be in charge of what while Optimus was gone. Red Alert probably wasn't going to get much recharge while the Prime was away. He'd catch a breem or two here and there in his office, but he had to stay vigilant for the most part.

The exhaustion was an ever-present nag these orns, hovering in the back of his processor, growing like a storm cloud. But rest was for those who could afford to risk it. Red Alert couldn't. He didn't just need to keep himself safe, he needed to keep the entire Autobot cause protected. He actually hadn't caught any traitors yet, but it was only a matter of time, and he had to be ready when something happened, because there would be little to no warning.

* * *

Mirage waited anxiously, invisible, in an alleyway. Their window of opportunity would only be open for so long. According to rumors, Megatron and Soundwave had left Kaon. Primus only knew how long they'd be gone, but this was a perfect opportunity for Mirage to sneak into the base. He just needed Jazz's permission. Part of him wanted to go now, without waiting, but he knew he shouldn't.

Some mecha wouldn't have waited for permission. If their positions were reversed, Mirage knew Jazz would just go for it. But he knew waiting was the better option. He trusted that Jazz would receive the message quickly enough. He'd only sent it five breems ago.

He checked again.

Yes.

 _[Ok, mech, go for it, but be careful. Get out in a joor or less, and then I want you to come home.]_

Mirage subspaced the datapad. He took a deep vent and checked all his systems, making sure he had enough energon in his tanks and that his mod was working properly. Then he left the alleyway and set off toward the base. Now that Megatron was gone, it was only marginally more dangerous than the rest of the city, but if he and Soundwave came back before Mirage left, Mirage would probably get caught.

The front doors of the base were closed, but Mirage only had to find a place where mecha were going in and out, and he had a map of the base, courtesy of Jazz's time spent as a double agent here. That had been quite the feat—and that memory-erasing trick… Mirage could barely imagine how terrifying that would have been.

He found a frequently used door and only had to wait a breem before it opened to let two Decepticon guards out. Mirage slipped into the base before the door closed. His own pedesteps were silent against the floor, which helped him listen for other sounds.

Now, where could he go to get the most information? He didn't want to try to mess with the computer systems. He wasn't good enough at hacking, and didn't want to set off any alarms.

There had to be a place like the entrance room in the tower, where the leadership of the Decepticons spent time socializing. Jazz would know where it was, but they hadn't really gone into details about what Mirage ought to do if he had an opportunity to sneak into the Decepticon base.

He found the energon hall, and hung around there for a few breems, but it was full of ordinary soldiers and they didn't seem to know much more than the mecha on the streets outside. Mirage didn't have time to waste listening to them. He needed to find someone more important. So he left and wandered the halls, making his way slowly toward the command center. When he was nearly there, he almost crashed into a mech going the other way. The mech held himself as if he were important, though there were really no other clues. Mirage followed him, hoping.

He stopped at a door and looked over his shoulder before opening it. Mirage wasn't fast enough to slip in after him, but he stood nearby, audios straining to hear the quiet conversation inside.

"…Not ready yet…don't think Megatron…but I wouldn't put it past him…"

"I don't know….probably knows you're…stab him in the back."

Hmm…

"Just keep your helm down…wait a little longer."

The conversation went on. From the bits and pieces Mirage gleaned, this mech was _not_ loyal to Megatron, and was, in fact, plotting to overthrow him. Now _that_ was a useful piece of information. After a breem or so, they ended their conversation, and Mirage stepped back from the door as it opened.

"One more thing," one of the voices in the room said. Now that the door was open, Mirage could hear him more clearly.

"Yes?" the mech who Mirage had been following—during the conversation, the other mech had called him Blackangle—said.

"I approached the scientist like you asked."

"And?"

"I don't think we're going to get him on our side. I mean, I didn't _ask_ him, but he seems like the type who only cares about his own agenda… so I don't think we'll have any trouble from him after you make your move, but he's not going to help us."

"Well, that's better news than it could be," Blackangle said. "I'll meet with you again soon, probably next time Megatron's not on base."

Mirage kept following him for a breem, but there were a few things in that conversation that merited further investigation. They'd mentioned prisoners once in a way that made it sound like some of them were still on base. Mirage knew several Autobots had been captured, as well as a large number of civilians. Maybe he could rescue some of them, or at least learn more about the situation here so they could mount a rescue attempt later.

He headed for the basement where Jazz's map suggested prisoners were kept. But on the way, he ran into two guards leading three nervous-looking Iaconians somewhere, and decided to follow them instead. They went down a flight of stairs and down a long hallway on the second level of the city. If they went much farther in this direction, they'd leave the base. Mirage hesitated… he'd been here for nearly half a joor now. He didn't have that much time left.

And he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know where these mecha were being taken. But what if it was important?

He kept following.

Fortunately, they didn't go much farther before the tunnel opened up into what seemed like another building. According to Mirage's magnetic locator, they were only a few hundred meters from the main Decepticon base.

The guards were met at a set of double doors by two…drones? Or were they mecha? Their frames weren't identical, so they probably weren't drones. Their faceplates were gone, though, replaced in each case by a single red optic.

Well, that wasn't disturbing at all.

"Thank you," one of the faceless mecha said in a quiet, feminine voice. The guards turned and walked away as the double doors opened, and the prisoners were led inside. Mirage followed. The two faceless mecha led the three prisoners to three empty cell-like cages along one wall. There were other cages too, but those were full. Then the femme stayed and watched the prisoners, while the mech walked away. Mirage followed him down the corridor, through a door. They went through a dark room full of strange-looking equipment, and another that looked like some sort of workshop.

Then finally they emerged into a spacious room that was occupied by a third one-opticed mech and an unconscious or offline mech restrained on a berth.

The faceless mech in this room was sitting at a desk, studying a faintly-glowing machine. It took him a few astroseconds to look up.

"Scramble," he said.

"Shockwave, sir," the faceless mech who Mirage had been following bowed.

Mirage froze.

"We have received three more subjects."

"Good," Shockwave said. "Return to your post. I will request your assistance if I need it."

Shockwave. Shockwave the senator? Shockwave who'd disappeared? Shockwave who'd been in the Institute?

Was that who these faceless mecha were? Mecha from the Institute? Primus, no…

Shockwave went over to look down at the mech on the berth. "Log entry v2488 o377, 8:37 joors," he said. "Subject 7.4. Procedure failure. Subject terminated. 2.13% of spark energy collected… subject's systems recycled for parts." He turned and went back to his desk. Another faceless mech came in, released the offline mech from the berth, and carried his frame away.

Half a breem later, Mirage heard a sound like a saw running. He cringed and tried to ignore it.

He realized he should have followed that mech out. But now he'd have to wait for someone else to enter or leave the room. He walked over to stand behind Shockwave, watching him work. The mech had two datapads and a computer open, all showing things Mirage didn't understand. He committed them to memory, though. Maybe Perceptor would know something about them.

Pit, this was very bad. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of here so he could tell Jazz. This sort of thing—this was the sort of intel he'd been looking for. If Soundwave got back before he managed to escape... He looked at the door. Maybe Shockwave wouldn't think much about it opening on its own…

No. Mirage couldn't risk it. And panic would make him stupid so he needed to stay calm. At the first opportunity, he'd leave, but for now there might be more to learn. He shuttered his optics for a moment, listening to the sound of the saw in the distance. He didn't want to know more about what was happening here. Once you'd seen something, you couldn't un-see it. Once you'd heard something, it would haunt you.

Sometimes you had to make sacrifices. He took a deep vent, fought to ignore the sick sensation in his tanks, un-shuttered his optics, and went back to studying Shockwave's screen.


	31. Assassin

Orion sat in the crystal garden with his optics shuttered, trying to clear his processor. Meditating was harder now that he had a bond again, and he was distracted anyway. He wished there were some way to prepare for this—some way to reach into the future and tell himself he was short on time. But as soon as he entered the fourth trial, he would forget. He knew this one wouldn't be as unpleasant as some of the others, but that didn't stop him from being nervous. Eventually, he gave up and un-shuttered his optics. Master Yoketron sat across from him, still and silent.

"I'm ready," Orion said. "I don't think I'll ever be more ready than I am now, and the sooner I start, the sooner I'll be finished."

"You are not calm," Yoketron said.

"No, I am not."

"You should spend another breem or two meditating. Regardless of how this trial goes, calmness in the face of frustration and anxiety is a necessary skill for you to learn. The Matrix will help you with that, but if you want to keep hold of yourself when your receive it, you need to be in control of your emotions. The skills you learn beforehand will be enhanced. The skills you lack will still be your weaknesses."

Silence fell as Orion thought about that statement. "Will it help me be a better fighter?"

"I suppose it might," Yoketron said. "In fact, I hope it does, because you will likely have a need to fight before I have been able to finish training you. You are a fast learner, but…"

"Not as fast as Prowl." Orion said.

"I have not taught many mecha who were faster learners than Prowl," Yoketron said. "Do not compare yourself to him. He has his own challenges—many of them are things that come naturally to you."

That was true. Everyone had strengths and weaknesses. They didn't have time for this conversation, though. "Can we begin the trial?"

"Not until I am satisfied that you have mastered your anxiety."

Orion took a deep vent and shuttered his optics, trying to calm himself. He knew Elita could feel his nervousness over the bond. He was very grateful for that bond—as Elita had told Ratchet, she was a strength and not a burden. But it was sometimes distracting anyway.

He realized he had to trust himself. Even though he wouldn't remember anything once he entered the trial, he had to trust his spark and his processor. He had to trust that he would realize where he was, and that he had important things to get back to. That was all he needed to do. This wouldn't be like the first trial, or the third. He wouldn't need to do it over and over again. He would finish it in one shot, maybe even in less than an orn.

"That's better," Yoketron said. "Would you like to begin now?"

"How do you know…"

"That you're calm? Orion, I have been a Circuit-Su teacher for more than a thousand vorns, and I have been teaching you for quartexes now. I can tell when you're anxious." He stood and walked around Orion.

Orion braced himself slightly for the familiar feeling of the data stick entering the port on the back of his helm. Then he let himself slip into nothingness.

* * *

"…From what Orion said, we can't be sure they still plan to give it to him," Mainspring said. "After the war's over, there will be less of a need for him to have the Matrix."

Jazz tipped his chair back so it was balancing on two legs. "Yeah. But I'm pretty sure they'll change their minds, depending on how the war goes. And if they don't, I can always steal it or something. Do ya know how long it'll be before Orion needs that key?"

Mainspring shook his helm.

"I kinda don't like how secret this whole training thing is," Jazz said, "But I guess it's the Prime's business. Hmm… ya think we should steal the key anyway? Even though he says he doesn't want anymech ta steal it? It'd be safer here than with the Council."

"That would be risky," Mainspring said. "And I'm not sure it would actually be safer. The Council is very well guarded."

There was a ping in Jazz's audio. Mirage was comming him. Something must have gone wrong. He held up a hand to stop Mainspring and put his other hand to the side of his helm, activating his external comm.

"What is it?" he said. "Ya all right?"

" _Yes,"_ Mirage replied. _"I just left Kaon."_

Jazz shuttered his optics for an instant as relief washed over him. "Scared me, mech, why didn't ya just send a report?"

" _I wanted to talk to you about this personally."_

Mainspring was watching him curiously. "Okay," Jazz said. "What did ya find out?"

" _The Decepticons found the Institute."_

Chills ran down Jazz's back. He'd known they were looking for it. "Did they destroy it?"

" _Well…"_ Mirage said. _"I don't know where the mech in charge of it is—Neurosis or whatever his designation was. But they certainly didn't offline everyone there. In fact, they've got Shockwave working as their head scientist."_

Jazz had never met Senator Shockwave. Apparently the mech had gone to the same school that Jazz had, and had been friends with Wheeljack and Ratchet, but Jazz hadn't known him very well. "That sounds like bad news ta me."

" _Oh, you have no idea."_ Mirage said fervently. _"From what I gathered, he's been using the prisoners they took from Iacon as test subjects. I'm not entirely sure what he's trying to do, but it has something to do with spark energy. I saw some of his notes, and I don't have a clue what they mean, but maybe Perceptor will."_

Spark energy. Hadn't that been what Wheeljack had been researching? Hadn't that been the research the government had wanted him to use to develop weapons? That did not sound good at all. "Okay, mech," he said. "As soon as you're far enough away from the city that ya don't think they'll detect a bridge, we're bringing ya home. Did ya get out clean?"

" _Yes, I think."_

"Good," Jazz said. "Anything else?"

" _There's more I found out while on the base, but that was the main thing I wanted to tell you."_

"Okay. If there's nothing else pressing, ya can report in person once you're back here."

" _Well… there was also a mech designated Blackangle who's planning to stab Megatron in the back. I don't know if we could make an ally of him."_

Blackangle. Yes, he'd been pretty sure that Blackie would be there. "Oh, I know him," Jazz said.

" _It sounded more like he wanted to take over from Megatron than stop him..."_

"Sounds about right," Jazz said. "We'll talk about it when ya get back, okay? Let me know when ya're ready, I'll go get ya a bridge."

" _Thank you."_

Blackangle would not be an ally to the Autobots. He was just another sparkless, ambitious tyrant. Jazz hadn't been surprised to hear that he'd become the leader of Quantum, though it had been kind of sad. They'd been friends, sort of, back when Jazz had been really really bad at picking friends. Being the leader of that gang wasn't a happy job—being a criminal always demanded more than it returned, leaving you guilty and hungry and stealing your options from you. He didn't wish that on anymech, not even those who chose it for themselves.

"So…" Mainspring said. "What was that about?"

Right. Shockwave.

"Raj is coming home."

"I gathered that."

"The Decepticons captured the Institute, and it seems they're making use of the mecha who were in there. They've got the former senator Shockwave running their evil science department."

Mainspring frowned.

"Not good." Jazz got up. "I'm gonna go bridge Mirage back here using his personal groundbridge. I'm sorry, I think this takes precedence over our previous conversation, but we _will_ get back to that once I've got a full report from Mirage."

"Of course," Mainspring said.

"See ya, mech," Jazz left Mainspring's office and headed for the nearest secret entrance into the vaults on the lower levels of the tower.

As soon as he was done talking to Mirage, he would leave Iacon. The mech who could tell him the most about Shockwave's notes was currently elsewhere, and it would be good for Jazz to check up on him again anyway.

* * *

Orion un-shuttered his optics. He had a moment of disorientation, but relaxed when he recognized that he was in his office at the Hall of Records. He must have dozed off for a moment. He shook his helm and checked his internal timepiece. Just ten breems until his break. He hoped he hadn't been recharging for long.

He looked up at the screen, and for an instant, the decryption that he needed to complete seemed unfamiliar. But when he started working on it, he found it wasn't that hard. In fact, he was enjoying himself more than usual, so much that he missed the first few breems of his break and would have missed more if there hadn't been a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, and the door slid open.

"Still working?" Elita asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I still have... oh, it's my break, isn't it? I don't feel like it's time to stop yet."

Elita raised an optic ridge, but Orion could see the smile hiding behind her expression, and feel it through their bond. "I'm glad you love working so much," she said. "But you said you'd go for a walk with me this orn."

Orion stood and walked around the desk. "You're right, I did. I had completely forgotten..."

Elita shook her helm, smiling. "Come on, let's go feed your sparkling horde."

Orion followed her out of the Hall. They chatted pleasantly along the way as they walked their normal route. Soon they were flocked by excited sparklings who clamored for attention and candy. Orion was suddenly and inexplicably overcome with emotion. He shuttered his optics, wishing he could hold onto the moment forever. Then the feeling faded, and he was just standing in the street with his sparkmate, handing out energon treats.

Several of the younglings and sparklings were wearing new coats of paint, which was evidence that things were looking up for the poorer classes in the city. Ever since his friend Shockwave had become the Grand Councilmech, things had been changing. Progress was slow, but steady and peaceful for the most part. And things weren't just changing here—they were changing everywhere.

Cybertron had come dangerously close to collapse, but now they were saying the Golden Age would last a thousand more vorns.

Orion wished he could stay longer with the sparklings and younglings, but soon his break was over. He and Elita walked back toward the Hall of Records.

"Next orn, I have to work during this time," she said. "So you'll have to drag yourself away from your computer screen on your own."

"Okay," Orion said.

Elita sighed, glancing over her shoulder.

"What is it?"

"They're cute, Orion," she said. "But I think we should get our own sparkling."

Orion nodded. "Of course."

"Soon," Elita said.

They kept talking as they walked the rest of the way back to the Archives. Elita left him at the front doors. "I'll see you after work," she said.

Orion nodded, and climbed the steps. He should finish the project he'd been working on and then go talk to Alpha Trion. He felt like it had been too long since he'd had a real conversation with his mentor.

* * *

Makeshift took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. It was time. Everything was lining up. Optimus was gone for some indeterminate amount of time, and by some miracle of good fortune, Jazz had left the base too. If Makeshift could offline Prowl now, the Decepticons could attack anywhere without worrying about losing. He just had to hope that things would keep working out, because he would only have one shot at this.

He got up from his seat in the central room and walked to Mainspring's office at a leisurely pace. He took another deep vent, running through his lines, and knocked on the door.

Then he waited.

After some consideration, he'd realized that _everyone_ trusted Mainspring. For good reason of course—Mainspring was likable and reliable, not to mention older and wiser than the rest of the command element. But he, like everyone else here, was still new to this.

The door opened.

"Makeshift," Mainspring said. "Come in. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Uh…" Makeshift let himself look almost as uncomfortable as he felt. "So… I just realized that last time I was in Jazz's office, I left a datapad there, and I need it, and I was wondering if you have the code to get in? Jazz is off-base, so he can't help me."

"Oh," Mainspring said.

Makeshift knew Mainspring had the code to get in.

"Of course," he said. "Let me comm. Jazz to make sure it's all right. Come with me."

"Thank you," Makeshift said, as Mainspring walked past him. He followed his superior through the hall to Jazz's office—the only blind spot in the entire tower.

"He says he hasn't noticed any extra datapads there, but it's kind of a mess so it's possible," Mainspring said, and tapped in the code. "Just as long as you take your datapad and not one of his on accident."

Jazz's office was one of the few rooms that needed a passcode. Makeshift discreetly watched Mainspring put in the code, memorizing the sequence of numbers.

The door slid open, then automatically shut behind them after they walked in. The desk was—as Makeshift had expected—covered with datapads.

"Now what exactly are you looking for?" Mainspring said, approaching the desk. "I hope we can find it in all this—"

Makeshift shoved the other mech into the wall and slammed a fist into the side of Mainspring's helm, crushing his comm. Mainspring cried out, and Makeshift pulled a miniature, but powerful energon prod and shocked the other mech until he was certain Mainspring was unconscious. Then he let go, spark pulsing rapidly. Mainspring slumped to the ground. He was mostly unharmed—Makeshift needed him intact in order to scan him.

* * *

Red Alert watched every camera feed. He had screens up all over. He hadn't recharged much the off-cycle before, and now that Optimus had left he probably wouldn't get any this off-cycle either. It was taking its toll, but he would live through it. At least that Infermo mech was useful. His designs so far were good—almost perfect—and he seemed to understand the need for safety better than most mecha.

Red Alert would definitely be keeping an optic on him, but for now he had other things to think about. His optics skimmed over the screens, looking for anything unusual.

His optics flicked toward a camera in the central room. He paused to count the mecha there and note who each of them were and whether they were supposed to be there. Then he skimmed through several other feeds. There was Chromia, scowling at her computer screen. There was Ratchet, organizing tools in his office. There was Mirage's apparently empty room, though there was no way to tell if it was _really_ empty. There was another angle of the entrance room, there was Ironhide walking down a hallway, there was Mainspring leaving Jazz's office.

Mainspring leaving _Jazz's_ office?

Red Alert stopped that feed and backed it up to see what had happened.

He watched with growing confusion as Mainspring and one of the mechs from Jazz's division went into Jazz's office. And then the door closed. And then two breems later, Mainspring left. But where was that other mech? Red Alert paused the video, but couldn't see the mech. He could be standing off to the side of the door or something… but why had they gone in Jazz's office in the first place?

There was probably some rational explanation for this. Things more suspicious than this had happened in the past few joors. However, there was no way to tell that nothing underhanded had happened because he couldn't see _inside_ of that room.

Red Alert didn't want to take chances, so he flipped through the camera feeds until he found Mainspring again. He watched as the mech walked to Prowl's office. That wasn't particularly unusual, since the two of them worked together fairly often. He switched cameras again, so he had a better view of Mainspring and Prowl standing in the doorway. The two of them seemed to be talking. Red Alert looked up at the big screen on the wall that displayed footage from every camera in the whole base. He checked everything again to make sure it was all normal, then went back to looking at Mainspring and Prowl, who were now retracing Mainspring's steps back toward Jazz's office.

Red Alert couldn't see into Jazz's office. It would be a perfect place for an act of treachery. But who would know about it? Mainspring would, and Jazz, of course… Would anyone else be aware of that?

Pit, no… Red Alert had confronted Jazz about it in the middle of the entrance room. _Anyone_ could know.

Mainspring and Prowl reached Jazz's office and went in.

Red Alert had to do something. He commed Prowl, and waited anxiously for the mech to answer him.

Prowl's response was quick. _"What is it?"_

" _What are you doing?"_

" _Mainspring wanted me to see—"_

Static.

" _Prowl!"_ Red Alert said.

No answer.

* * *

The alarm went off. Makeshift jumped back, leaving the knife in Prowl's back as panic overwhelmed his core. He opened the door and sprinted out into the hallway.

Red Alert's voice came over the PA system. "WE HAVE A TRAITOR ON THE BASE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! HE'S COMING DOWN THE HALLWAY TOWARD THE ENTRANCE ROOM! STOP HIM BEFORE HE GETS TO THE ELEVATOR!"

Pit, no. Makeshift ran faster, and burst through the doors to the entrance room, sprinting across. They were just starting to get up, too slow on their pedes.

"THE BASE IS GOING ON FULL LOCKDOWN! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! SOMEONE STOP HIM!"

Makeshift made it to the elevator. A few others lunged at him, but they were too late. The doors closed and he hit the button to take him to the ground level.

The elevator started its slow descent.

This was not going to work. They were going to be ready for him by the time he reached the bottom. He needed to exit the elevator before then. He reached up, but Mainspring wasn't tall enough to reach the emergency exit, so he transformed to a different frame and tried again. The door on the roof of the elevator opened and he climbed up to the top of it. Hopefully, there would be some side passage he could reach from the elevator shaft.

Then the elevator stopped. And then a moment later, it started moving back up.

* * *

"I don't think he'll be on the elevator by the time it gets back to the top," Red Alert said.

"No," Mirage replied. "He's already passed a few of the service exits he could have taken."

Red Alert glared at the noblemech. "If you'd let me put cameras in your vaults, we'd know where he was."

"Oh, we'll know," Mirage studied his datapad. "Just give it a breem…

They were in Red Alert's office. Normally he wouldn't let anyone else in here, but Mirage knew the tower better than he did.

" _What's the code for Jazz's office? We can't get in."_ Ironhide asked over the open comm.

Red Alert hesitated, then sent the code to Ironhide. Jazz was going to have to change it anyway.

"There," Mirage said. "He triggered a sensor. Send the guards to this intersection." He showed Red Alert the place on the blueprint he had open on his datapad. Red Alert sent his guards to block the double agent's escape.

"Mainspring," Mirage muttered. "I can't believe it. I honestly can't believe it."

"I knew there was one somewhere," Red Alert didn't want to admit that Mainspring had been on the lower end of his potential traitors list as well.

"Another sensor. He's trapped in there," Mirage said. "There's nowhere for him to go—the elevator's the only way down."

" _Uh, Red?"_ Ironhide's voice said over the comm. _"Were you looking for Mainspring?"_

"Yes?" Red Alert replied.

" _Well, he's here in Jazz's office… unconscious and stuffed under the desk…"_

What on all of Cybertron? _Mainspring?_ Unconscious in Jazz's office?

"What is it?" Mirage asked.

"Are you sure? Where's Prowl?"

" _Yep, this is Mainspring,"_ Ironhide said. _"Ratchet already took Prowl away. It didn't look good, and there's a_ lot _of energon on the floor."_

If Mainspring was still in Jazz's office… that was impossible. Red Alert had _seen_ him leave. Unless it had been a hologram or something. "Were there just two in there? Prowl and Mainspring?"

" _Uh, yeah."_

"Who is this?" Red Alert pulled up the feed of the camera that pointed toward Jazz's office door. He backed it up to when Mainspring and that other mech had first gone in and showed it to Mirage.

"Huh?" Mirage said, then narrowed his optics. "That's… Makeshift. He's in our department…"

"I know he's in your department," Red Alert said. "He went in, and didn't come back out… but they just found Mainspring unconscious in Jazz's office, not him."

" _What_?" Mirage said.

"I'm just as confused as you are. Does he have any mods? Like a hologram generator, maybe?"

"Makeshift?"

"Yes."

"Not that I know of," Mirage said. "You'll have to ask Jazz."

Reports from the guards down in the vaults came back. They'd cornered him, but then he hadn't been there. Red Alert told them to keep looking—to scour the place. Mecha didn't just disappear… well, with the exception of the one sitting right next to him.

He glared at Mirage again, then commed Jazz.

* * *

The wind filled his audios and Makeshift gripped the handle of his grappling hook harder as he swung sideways along the tower. He'd reached the end of the chain. He needed another handhold so he could go down the next leg of the journey. But first the wind needed to die down. He hated heights but this was better than being caught—that was for certain. He found another handhold and clung to the building as he hit the button to release the hook. It fell down past him and he retracted it, then hooked it into the wall where he was and started down the next several hundred meters.

He found another handhold before he reached the end of the hook's range, and used it. There was a possibility they'd have mecha waiting for him at the bottom. This wasn't exactly the fastest way down, though if he was quick enough, he could make it almost as fast as the elevator. It was the searching for handholds that took time.

Hopefully, they wouldn't find his exit and follow him out here. Why did they make these towers so slagging high?

He'd sent his report back already, just in case he didn't make it to the bottom. He wasn't sure if he'd actually killed Prowl because he hadn't had time to stay and check. If he hadn't panicked—If he'd just waited and stabbed the tactician once more to be sure, he'd be able to call the mission a certain success.

But it was too late for that now. And there was nowhere to go.

He heard a sound like the wind picking up and braced himself, but then realized it wasn't the wind. It was an engine.

"Need a lift?" a voice asked. A purple seeker hovered right next to him.

"Who are you?" Makeshift demanded.

"Skywarp, duh," the seeker said. "I'm with the Decepticons. They sent me to rescue you so the 'Bots can't get any information from you. Do you or don't you want a ride?"

"That would be nice," Makeshift said.

"Then jump," Skywarp said with a grin in his voice.

Makeshift wasn't so sure about that. "On second thought…"

"Oh, come on, I'll catch you."

He didn't trust this seeker—the mech seemed overly cheerful—almost unhinged.

"They're waiting for you at the bottom. You're not going to get away."

Makeshift glanced down, then shuttered his optics as he felt the world tilting and spinning. "Okay, okay," he said. "Ready?"

"Yep."

Makeshift let go of his grappling hook, and pushed off of the tower.

"Psyche!" Skywarp dodged out of his way. Makeshift screamed as he felt himself dropping. He was falling. He was going to die…

He heard the seeker laughing, and then an instant later, something crashed into him. He clung to it, trembling.

"Whoa," Skywarp said. "You're really heavy. Hey, you're going to crush me holding on like that. Cut it out or I'll stop rescuing you."

Makeshift's spark was pulsing so rapidly he thought it might explode. He held on more tightly and didn't let go until they landed hard and rolled to a stop in an empty street.

Then he got up and backed away from the crazy seeker, venting hard. He looked behind himself toward the tall tower he'd just escaped from.

Well, that had been enough excitement for one orn.

Time to go home and report on his successful mission.


	32. Regrets

Jazz followed the mech through the quiet streets of Praxus. He was alone, and appeared to be headed back home. It was a good time to break cover, but Jazz wasn't sure if this mech would want to talk to him. He might just run off, and Jazz didn't want to have to chase him. He didn't want to go too close to where the telepath was staying, and he didn't want to risk losing track of Wheeljack again either. He wasn't sure whether Blaster knew they were being watched, but Jazz wanted to keep his distance as much as possible just in case.

Wheeljack turned down another empty alleyway and Jazz crept after him. This city was a strange place. Even the dark alleyways were relatively clean and well-kept. It had its own problems, of course—every place had its own problems—but on the surface it was probably the nicest city on Cybertron.

The mech Jazz was following stopped and pulled a knife out of subspace. "Who's there?" he asked.

No point in hiding, since Jazz wanted to talk to him anyway. He stepped out into the open. "Just me, mech."

Wheeljack spun. "Jazz," he growled. "What do you want? I told you already I'm not going to join the Decepticons."

"Mech, I ain't a Decepticon," Jazz said, tapping the Autobot insignia on his chestplate. "And I'm sorry about last time. I was actually real glad when ya turned me down."

Wheeljack glared at him. "What do you want?"

"Just ta talk," Jazz said. "Got some news, though I _don't_ want ya ta go get yourself killed over it, all right?"

Wheeljack's grip tightened on the knife. "How did you find me?"

So they didn't know Jazz was watching Blaster. Or, at least, Wheeljack didn't. "Doesn't matter," he said. "I thought ya'd wanna hear about this so I came and found ya."

The other mech seemed to relax a little, though he didn't put the knife away. "Alright. What is it?"

"The Decepticons found the Institute."

Wheeljack stiffened, and his expression darkened. "So… it's gone?"

"Pretty sure they didn't destroy it," Jazz said. "They might have discontinued it, at least, so that's something. We don't have a clue where Neurosis is. But Megatron didn't kill the mecha who were in there, he's got them all working for him now, including Shockwave."

Jazz waited. Slowly, Wheeljack looked down. "Shockwave's working for Megatron," he deadpanned.

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

"We showed his notes ta Perceptor, who seems ta think he's trying ta finish your spark energy research," Jazz got out a datapad. "Mirage is the one who was reading over Shockwave's shoulder and he didn't really understand what he was looking at, but he remembered enough of it to write it down afterward." He held out the datapad and Wheeljack hesitantly lowered his knife and reached out with his free hand for it. Jazz stood and waited as he read.

Breems went by. Wheeljack scrolled down, still holding the knife in one hand. His expression was unreadable.

When he was finished, he handed it back.

"We were wondering if ya could help us figure it out." Jazz said. "Cuz if we know what he's trying ta do, we might be able to stop him."

"He's stuck," Wheeljack said. "He only helped me with the beginning of the project. He doesn't have a way to safely collect the spark energy. He'll figure it out, though, given time."

Jazz nodded. "Ya know… if ya're willing, we could use—"

"No," Wheeljack said. "I don't know what you're asking me to do, but the answer is no. I'm not a scientist like I used to be, and I wouldn't give you my spark energy research any more than I'd give it to the Council."

"Okay, okay," Jazz said. "Just answer me this. If he figures out your research, what'll happen?"

"Hopefully, we won't ever find out," Wheeljack said, and turned away.

"Ya said he'd figure it out eventually."

Wheeljack hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder. "If he lives long enough."

"Don't go try and offline him," Jazz said.

Wheeljack was silent.

"Mech, ya won't reach him. Their base is well-protected, and Soundwave's there. Ya know he's a telepath, right? He'll know ya're there."

"I'll find a way," Wheeljack said. "Thank you for the information."

"Ya won't be able to kill Shockwave if ya get caught first." Jazz said. "There are better ways—"

"So you're an Autobot now, right?" Wheeljack turned around to face him. "You know you're not going to win this war. It's not possible. Not with everything stacked against you like it is."

"I'm not asking ya ta join the Autobots, and I don't care what side ya think will win or lose," Jazz said. "I just wanna know what we should expect if Shockwave finishes this research. The Council wanted ya ta build weapons, right? What kinda weapons are we talking about?"

Wheeljack was silent. Then he sighed. "Spark energy weapons are dangerous and difficult to produce. You could make guns that kill every time, but you'd have to upgrade all of your soldiers to shield them so that the guns wouldn't damage them too. The Council could have done it, but I don't think the Decepticons have the infrastructure. They could make some nasty explosives, though—bombs that leave structures intact, but kill all the mecha in their range."

That didn't sound good.

"I think the real worry, though," Wheeljack continued. "Isn't the weapons he'll make for the Decepticons."

Jazz waited, but Wheeljack turned around and started walking away again.

Jazz jogged to catch up with him. "What's that supposed ta mean."

Wheeljack sighed. "If I thought I'd just be making guns and bombs for the Council, I might have considered it. But… my research would have made other things possible too. Using spark energy, you can give mecha mods and upgrades that would normally offline them. You can make the mecha themselves into powerful weapons."

That _really_ didn't sound good.

"So if you'll excuse me," Wheeljack said. "I've got to go visit an old friend before he gets that far in his experiments."

"Ya're just gonna get caught and offlined," Jazz said. "Play it smarter than that. I want him gone as much as you do."

"No you don't understand," Wheeljack rounded on him. "I can't sit around and wait. It was his last wish, his dying prayer, and I think it must be what kept him fighting the shadowplay for so long. I can't let him do what I know he's capable of. Primus kept me alive for some reason and I have to believe this is it." He transformed and drove away.

"Wait!" Jazz said, jogging after him, but Wheeljack sped up, racing down the alleyway.

Jazz was about to transform and give chase, but there was a ping on his comm. and when he checked, it was Red Alert trying to contact him.

Hooray.

Jazz sighed and answered it.

" _Jazz!"_ Red Alert's voice shouted in his audios. _"The mech in your department—Makeshift—did he have some sort of mod, like a hologram or something?"_

That was a strange question. "Uh… no? Not that I know of."

" _He impersonated Mainspring somehow! He lured Mainspring and Prowl into your office to kill them! I told you I needed cameras in there! I told you! But no, you had to have your privacy!"_

" _What?_ " Jazz demanded.

" _Did you not hear me? He's a traitor! He lured them into your office and attacked them!"_

Jazz's spark sank. "Makeshift… Frag I…"

 _"I need to see what happened. You said you still have your own cameras there, right? How do I access the feed from those? Please tell me you record what happens in there."_

"Are Mainspring and Prowl all right?"

The hesitation at the other end of the line seemed to take eternity. _"Well, I think Mainspring's just unconscious. I don't know about Prowl. Ratchet's not answering his comm."_

Jazz took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. At least Mainspring was okay, but if Prowl was dead, the war was effectively over.

" _I told you! I told you all something would happen while Optimus was gone, but did you listen to me? No! And now we have this great big mess…"_

"Did ya catch Makeshift?"

" _No, we didn't!"_ Red Alert said. _"He disappeared!"_

"How did he manage ta get them both in my office?"

" _Well, maybe if I could_ see the camera feed from your office _I might be able to tell you! All I know is Makeshift and Mainspring went in there, and Mainspring came out by himself and went to get Prowl, and Prowl went with him back into the office, and then Mainspring came running out after attacking Prowl, but it wasn't Mainspring, because Mainspring was still in your office the whole time, unconscious, so it must have been Makeshift, but we won't know for sure because he got away!"_

"What!" Jazz said, then transformed and started driving. He needed to get to the groundbridge station so he could get back to Iacon. "Okay, run that by me one more time. I haven't got a fragging clue what ya just said."

" _Just get back here!"_

"I'm coming."

* * *

Ratchet hadn't lost a patient yet, and he couldn't lose one now. He forced himself to be calm, to focus. Prowl was hooked up to every kind of spark support machine Ratchet had. The blade had dug deep enough into his spark chamber to be very, very fatal. If the assassin had pulled the knife out, or if it had taken half a breem longer to get Prowl to Ratchet's office, the Praxian would be offline right now.

As it was, he was barely clinging to life.

There wasn't much you could do to repair a spark chamber. They were so sensitive that the best practice was almost always to put the mech or femme on bedrest for a couple of decaorns, and let their self repair systems handle things.

But he didn't have that luxury. He had carefully cut away most of the blade, but there was still a piece embedded deep in Prowl's spark chamber. If he pulled it out, Prowl could offline instantly, but if he didn't pull it out, the mech would certainly offline within the next breem or so. Prowl would also certainly offline if there was a hole in his spark chamber, so Ratchet needed to patch it with something. He couldn't weld temp plating onto the spark chamber directly without damaging it further, but he had to do something quickly. He wished he had better tools, or someone who knew more about spark chamber surgery.

But he didn't.

He had to patch the wound with something. Temp plating wouldn't work. Even if you didn't have to weld it, foreign material in contact with the spark could cause spark failure.

Ratchet didn't have time to figure out some sort of nice, neat solution. He took a deep vent and reached into the wound with a scalpel. Carefully, cautiously, he scraped away a strip of metal from the outside of Prowl's spark chamber, trying to make it as small as possible, but still large enough he could use it to cover the wound. Cutting into the spark chamber went against everything he'd been taught, but he was careful to take the bare minimum of what he needed to patch the wound, and to avoid nicking any energon lines.

Then, once he'd cut off the piece he needed, he reached in with pliers and eased the end of the blade out. Fresh energon leaked from the wound, along with wisps of spark energy. Ratchet dropped the blade tip and reached in with the strip of outer spark chamber as Prowl's spark went critical again.

He pressed the spark chamber material over the hole as spark energy licked his fingers, leaking out of the wound profusely. Machines beeped insistently as Prowl's spark flickered and dimmed.

"No," Ratchet muttered, pressing firmly, sealing the hole off as well as he could. "No, don't you dare…" he could see the weakening glow of Prowl's spark, but he couldn't move. If he took pressure off of his improvised patch there was no way Prowl would make it.

Ratchet hadn't lost a patient yet.

He couldn't.

He couldn't do anything. He couldn't move, or look at the monitors. He didn't dare vent as he listened to the panicking spark support machines, bracing himself for the longer, deeper tone that would mean Prowl's spark had imploded and he was offline.

It didn't come.

Ratchet held perfectly still for more than a breem with his vents off and his engine on low so that his hands wouldn't shake at all.

And then the monitors quieted, angry alarm warnings fading back to the steady beeping that indicated a stable spark.

After another breem, he dared to move one hand, and then, as gently and carefully as he could, he welded the strip of spark chamber over the hole, sealing it shut. There were a few more close calls, and by the time he was done, Prowl's spark pulse was so weak as to be nearly nonexistent.

But he was online.

Ratchet backed away and sat on the other berth, shaking with relief. He looked down at his energon-streaked hands. He hadn't lost a patient yet. He wouldn't lose one this orn either.

* * *

"Are you all right?"

Elita looked up from the datapad she was reading and tilted her helm to the side. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I thought…" Orion sat down in the chair next to her. Their apartment was small and cozy and perfect. Much nicer than the one he'd lived in before they were bonded. "I thought I felt something earlier this orn. Like you were upset for some reason."

"You mean, through the bond?" Elita said. "I guess… it wasn't a particularly amazing orn at work, but nothing significantly upsetting happened."

"Hmm…" Orion said. He had been almost certain. It had been strange though—simultaneously weaker and stronger than the bond normally felt. And it had faded quickly. "Maybe I just imagined it. It was like… like an echo of something."

Elita frowned. "Hmm… I don't think anything upsetting happened at work. Are you all right? You've seemed distracted lately."

It was hard to put words to it. "I don't know. I should be fine. There's just… nothing wrong with my life. Everything's perfect."

Elita raised an optic ridge. "And that's bad because…?"

"I just get this feeling like it's all too good to be true."

Elita set her datapad to the side, looking thoughtful. "I guess I can see where you're coming from," she said. "But I don't think it's wrong to fully appreciate the good times. Hard times will come back, I'm sure."

Orion nodded "I suppose so."

She put her hand on his, smiling. "You worry too much."

He knew she had a point. Orion had the Hall of Records, and Elita, and his friends, and things were looking up in the world. There was peace and hope and a wide selection of interesting books to read, and that was all he needed. That was all he'd ever wanted. Why should he feel like he was missing something? Besides, the good times never lasted long enough. He'd hold onto this while everything was still perfect.

* * *

The entry request chimed and Blaster stretched his range out to see who it was.

… _right that this is dangerous, but I have to. I have to find him and kill him—it's what he would have wanted._

Wheeljack. Wheeljack with bad news.

Blaster nodded to Keepsake, who opened the door and let the mech in. Breeze looked up from the datapad she was reading. "Good orn, Jackie. How are you?" _He does not look all right. What happened?_

"You should leave," Wheeljack said.

"Leave?" Keepsake was alarmed. "Why? What happened?" _Are we in danger? Is Blaster in danger?_

 _I have to find him and I have to kill him before it's too late._

Blaster jerked his range in when Wheeljack started thinking about the Institute, but he had already figured out what was going on. Wheeljack's friend—the one who'd been in the Institute—was in Kaon now, and Wheeljack was going to go find him.

"Wheeljack?" Breeze said. "What happened?" _H_ _e's all worked up about something._

Curiosity overcame Blaster's desire to avoid listening to thoughts about the Institute, and so he extended his range again.

"The Autobots know where you are and if things go badly, the Decepticons might find out soon, so I suggest you get out of here. All of you. You can stay in the city if you want—in fact, this is one of the safer cities…" _I'll have to make sure they don't tell me where they're going. If I get caught, I don't want to be able to tell the Decepticons._

"Maybe you shouldn't go then," Blaster said quietly.

Wheeljack shot him a sharp glare. "Stay out of my helm, mechling."

"What's going on?" Breeze said.

Cam came in from the other room. "What's happening?" he asked. "Did you say something about the Autobots knowing where we are?"

"Yeah," Wheeljack said. "So you're going to move. But you're not going to tell me where you're moving to, because I'm not coming."

"Where _are_ you going?" Breeze said.

Wheeljack looked at her. _I can't tell her. She'll try to talk me out of it. And I don't want you to tell her either, Blaster. There's no stopping me and you'll only upset them all._

Blaster frowned. "No," he said. "Last time you… you got innocent mecha offlined."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Wheeljack snarled, then turned to talk to Breeze again. "I'll hang around and make sure you aren't followed." _I'll bet Jazz has spies around here. I can find them and take care of them…_

"What are we talking about?" Keepsake said. _Who offlined? I'm so confused._

"Bye," Wheeljack said and walked back toward the door, but Breeze jumped up and beat him there.

"No you don't," she said. "Not until you tell me what's going on," _I haven't seen him like this for a long time. He's jumpy, argumentative…_ "You're angry. And that's good. It's better than not feeling anything, but please calm down so we can talk this out."

Wheeljack glared at her, and then suddenly all of his anger was gone, like a switch had been thrown. He took a step back, feeling panicked instead.

"Jackie," Breeze said. "Please calm down."

He started thinking about the Institute again, and Blaster flinched and pulled his range back in. Keepsake came over and put a hand on Blaster's shoulder, while Cam moved to stand between them and Wheeljack.

Wheeljack's back was to them, and with Blaster's range so small, he couldn't see Wheeljack's expression through Breeze's optics.

"I have to go," Wheeljack sounded sorrowful now. "Jazz showed up and talked to me. He told me the Decepticons have Shockwave. I have to go kill him."

"No," Breeze said. "You're not thinking—"

"I'm thinking fine."

Wheeljack's voice was emotionless now.

Breeze shuttered her optics. "You can't," she said. "You can't go and kill your friend, even if it's not really him anymore—even if it's what he would have wanted. It is _wrong_. What happened to him is not your fault, and it is not your responsibility to correct it. Remember what you did before, when you were trying to hunt him down?"

Wheeljack didn't answer.

"Do you remember?"

"I killed mecha," Wheeljack said "Innocent mecha. I don't feel bad about it. I don't feel anything right now."

"You have to be feeling something," Breeze said. "Or you wouldn't care about going after Shockwave."

Wheeljack looked down.

They waited. Blaster kept his range small, covering just Cam and Keepsake. Both of them were worried. Both of them were afraid for his safety, and Breeze's safety. Wheeljack hadn't been like this for a long time. He'd been a lot worse when Breeze's friends had first found him. Blaster remembered Breeze remembering it.

"I'm sorry," Wheeljack said it so quietly that Blaster could barely make out the words. Then he pushed past Breeze and walked out the door.

Breeze grabbed his arm, but he shook her off and ran outside.

Blaster expanded his range again as Wheeljack transformed and drove away.

"Is he going to be all right?" Keepsake asked.

Breeze shook her helm, leaning out the door to watch him go. _This is not good. He's going to get himself offlined, I can't believe this…_

"I guess we'd better get ready to leave," Cam said.

"It's okay that the Autobots know where we are," Blaster said. "I've listened to their spies sometimes. They don't mean us any harm. They just want to keep us safe."

Cam rounded on him. "You _knew_ the Autobots know where we are?"

Blaster nodded. "Don't be mad at me," he said. "Please."

Cam deflated.

"Wheeljack mostly wants us to move because he's going to try and kill Shockwave," Blaster said. "And he doesn't want the Decepticons to find us if he gets caught."

Breeze shook her helm. _Maybe I should go after him—try to stop him. We can't let him do that… Primus, I don't want him to offline too…_

"Breeze?" Keepsake said.

She shook her helm. "I'm… I'll try to contact him and talk him out of it. In the meantime, yes, it might be good if we found somewhere else to stay."

* * *

Jazz tapped his fingers on the desk as they watched the video feed on his datapad. He tried to pretend that Red Alert standing so close behind him wasn't making him nervous, but he couldn't help it. Mainspring sat next to him. The older mech had come back online just a few breems before Jazz had returned to the tower. They still hadn't heard from Ratchet about Prowl, which also made Jazz nervous.

They'd confirmed that Makeshift had escaped. He'd climbed halfway down the tower and had then been rescued by a seeker.

On the screen, Mainspring and Makeshift came into the room.

"Now what exactly are you looking for?" the Mainspring on the screen asked, approaching the desk. "I hope we can find it in all this—"

Jazz watched as Makeshift attacked, slamming Mainspring into the wall. The younger mech bashed Mainspring's helm in, then zapped him with some sort of energon prod for several astroseconds. Jazz heard the real Mainspring sitting next to him flinch, but didn't look away from the screen. That hit to the helm looked like it had hurt. Mainspring was probably still in pain.

The Mainspring on the screen slid to the ground, unconscious. Makeshift stood over him for a moment. Then a dim light emanated from him, running up and down the unconscious mech at his pedes.

"Did he just _scan_ him?" Red Alert asked.

Makeshift hunched forward, and Jazz's optics widened as he started to transform. The mech's frame rippled, shifting in a complex, almost grotesque way. It looked like he was turning inside out. Jazz heard a quiet gasp from the Mainspring sitting next to him.

"What is that?" Red Alert breathed, and Jazz leaned forward, away from the security mech. Would it kill him to back up half a pace?

When the transformation finished, Makeshift looked just like Mainspring.

They watched as he dragged the unconscious mech around to hide him on the floor behind the desk, and then left the room.

"Well," Jazz said. "That explains that."

"What the _pit_!?" Red Alert said, finally backing away. "He just…. _He just transformed into Mainspring!_ "

"Yep." Jazz leaned back and crossed his arms.

"A mechformer," Mainspring muttered.

"Do you know what this means!" Red Alert shrieked, pacing across the room. "It means we can't be sure of anything! He could be _anyone!_ He could be _anywhere!_ He might not even have been _Makeshift!_ He might still be here, posing as someone else!"

"A mechformer," Mainspring repeated. "And a Decepticon… I thought I'd been careful… I checked his record."

"Hmm…" Jazz said. "Ya can fake records. They probably made sure his was clean before they sent him… he was a circus performer, right?"

"Are you _not listening to me?_ We have to lock the whole base down until we can _make_ sure everyone here is who they look like!"

Jazz turned around. "Mech, he ran for it. The seeker flew off with him. We caught that on camera. He's gone."

"You could just be saying that _because you're him!_ How do we know he's not impersonating you? You weren't on base when this happened!"

"I think he needs ta scan someone first," Jazz said. "If he'd scanned me, why would he have pretended ta be Mainspring, not me, when he lured Prowl inta my office?"

"Speaking of which," Mainspring said, gesturing to the screen.

Makeshift and Prowl came through the door on the camera feed. The door closed behind them as soon as they'd stepped into the office.

Then Prowl turned to the side slightly and put his hand to his helm like he was receiving a comm. The motion left his back exposed and Makeshift didn't let the opportunity pass by. The three mechs in Red Alert's office all watched silently as Makeshift slammed a knife into Prowl's back, right between his doorwings.

Alarm sirens went off in the recording almost as soon as Prowl hit the ground. Makeshift fled the room, leaving his knife sticking out of the Praxian's back.

"Frag," Jazz said. "That looks like it went straight into his spark chamber… have we heard from Ratchet yet?"

On the datapad screen, a pool of energon started spreading under Prowl's frame.

"No," Mainspring said.

"Yeah." Jazz felt vaguely ill. "He's probably dead. Pit…"

They waited.

Half a breem later, on the screen, the door opened again and Ironhide and Ratchet came in with a couple of other guards.

"No!" Ratchet knelt by Prowl, scanned him, and stood up again quickly. "Get him to my office! Now! _Now!_ "

One of the other mechs picked Prowl up and he and Ratchet left the room. Ironhide stepped over the pool of energon and turned so he was facing the camera. Then he frowned and walked around the desk, probably noticing Mainspring there.

Jazz looked down. If they'd lost Prowl…

Hesitantly, he commed Ratchet, but there was no response. They needed Orion. Orion was probably the only one who could safely go talk to the medic if Prowl was dead. Ratchet and an offline patient didn't sound like a safe thing to interrupt.

"We need to know if he's…" Mainspring trailed off. The slight tremble in his voice reminded Jazz that this mech had been an archivist before this, and wasn't accustomed to mecha he knew personally offlining.

He seemed to regain his composure quickly. "Jazz," he said again. "We need to know if Prowl's gone, because if he is, we have a lot of work to do."

"Right," Jazz stood. "All right." He picked up the datapad they'd been watching on. "I think that's all the action. Show's over. I'm gonna go brave the medic's lair. If I don't come back, Mainspring, I'm leaving it up ta you ta avenge me."

Mainspring rolled his optics and shook his helm, then winced. Yeah, he was still hurting.

Jazz left Red Alert's office and jogged down to Ratchet's. He hesitated, but figured knocking might not be very effective, so he just hacked the lock program on the door and it slid open.

Ratchet sat, staring at the still form of the Autobot tactician. For an instant, Jazz thought Prowl was dead, but when he looked at the displays on the medical equipment Ratchet had him hooked up to, he could see that the mech was still alive—if barely.

"Hey, look at that," he said. "He made it."

"How did you get in here?" Ratchet demanded.

"Ya shouldn't turn off your comm. and lock your door," Jazz said. "What if somemech else got hurt?" He activated his comm. _"Hey, Mainspring."_

Ratchet glared at him.

" _Yes?"_

" _Good news. Prowl's not dead. Wanna come down here and talk ta Ratchet? Ya got hit pretty hard yourself."_

" _Did_ anyone else get hurt?" Ratchet asked.

" _Okay, I'm coming."_

"Uh, yeah," Jazz said. "Mainspring did."

"Isn't he the one who did this?" Ratchet gestured to Prowl.

"No," Jazz said. "It was Makeshift."

"Who the pit is that?"

"One of my mecha. Or, I guess he's not really, since he was a double agent. Kind of unfortunate."

"I thought Red Alert said…"

"It's complicated," Jazz said. "Ya want me ta explain or…"

"Just get out of here!"

"Sure thing." Jazz backed out the door. Mainspring came around the corner and Jazz passed him going the other direction. "Good luck," he said.

Mainspring rolled his optics.

Jazz headed to his office. He needed to change the passcode on the door, and start working on this mess. They were vulnerable with Prowl out of commission, and the 'Cons probably knew it. On top of that, everything that Makeshift knew, the Decepticons knew now. Jazz had sent the traitor on several recon missions to various cities. Fortunately, he hadn't ever sent him to watch over Blaster. Only three mechs besides Jazz and Optimus knew where Blaster was.

But Makeshift had been granted access to the tower a lot. If you were listening, you could hear plenty of important information that way.

Jazz got to his office.

Oh, yes, and there was a great big puddle of energon on the floor.

Jazz stepped over it. He'd clean it up later. Right now he had other things to worry about.

* * *

Mainspring couldn't recharge, and he was pretty sure he wasn't the only one.

They were all tense, on edge. It wasn't healthy at all, and being overworked would make them slower to react if something bad happened. The events of the orn ran through his helm again and again as he worked late into the off-cycle. Red Alert had been right. Somehow, they'd let a Decepticon spy slip into their ranks. And there could be more of them.

Mainspring knew that letting the stress overwhelm him would be counterproductive, but he wanted to re-check everyone's background, looking for danger signs. Makeshift had been from Kaon, but his circus troupe had traveled all over. Upon further investigation, now that Mainspring knew Makeshift was a mechformer, he'd found some criminal activity that could probably be linked to the infiltrator.

Of course, that mystery wasn't the most important thing to worry about right now. Right now, they needed to be preparing for a Decepticon attack. Megatron almost certainly knew that Optimus was away, and he probably thought that Prowl was dead.

They didn't have anyone who could replace Prowl, even temporarily, because the tactician hadn't done anything to build up his department. Mainspring had sent him a list of mecha who had either experience or talent with strategy, but it seemed Prowl hadn't contacted any of them. He'd been trying to run the whole department by himself.

Mainspring wasn't sure what to think about that. It seemed like a very foolish, risky thing. He understood that Prowl liked to do things himself—to be in control. The young mech also didn't seem very confident about his ability to work with other mecha. Furthermore, he'd been very busy, so something like putting together a tactical team had probably been easy to procrastinate.

But those were still not valid excuses, and at this point, it was too late.

Sometimes Mainspring questioned the wisdom of letting all of these mechlings run an army. Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Red Alert, Ironhide, Ratchet, Mirage… He could see the potential in all of them, but they were still so young. Brilliant, talented, and noble, but also careless and inexperienced.

And Megatron, despite being very young himself, had already built up quite a bit of power and influence. He was allied with Quantum now, and he had acquired the Institute, and he had a telepath…

Would the Autobots really be able to defeat him?

Mainspring shuttered his optics. To a certain extent, it didn't matter. If the Autobots lost, then Mainspring would just lose with them. He'd picked his side, and he knew he'd picked the right one.

He forced his optics open again and looked down at the datapad he was reading. He was too tired for this. He needed to get some recharge. He checked his internal timepiece, and shut off his datapad. Just a few joors, and then he'd get back to work.

He had scarcely reached the door of his office when alarms went off and Red Alert's voice came over the PA.

"The Decepticons are attacking Tesarus! Everyone to the command center! The Decepticons are attacking Tesarus!"

Never mind.

Mainspring left his office and headed for the central room, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that they weren't going to win this one.


	33. Tesarus

Orion woke in the darkness. The feeling faded in and out but it was there. Fear.

"Elita?"

He heard felt her come online and heard her move. "What?" she mumbled, sending confused comfort over the bond… But the fear was there too in the background. Fear, despair…

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said.

The feeling faded and disappeared.

"What's wrong?" she asked groggily.

"Something," Orion said. "Something's wrong. I don't know what… I keep thinking…"

"Did you feel something unusual over the bond again?" She was concerned now. "Maybe you should go see a medic."

Orion sat up. "Maybe," he said. The feeling was gone… but this had happened several times over the past orn. He needed to figure out what was going on… "I'm… going out. I need to think about something."

"Okay," Elita said. "Can I come with you?"

'No, I…" he needed some distance from her.

She was worried now, but it was a different kind of worry than the one that had pulled him from his recharge. She sat up as well and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Are you all right?" she said.

"I don't know," Orion said. "I think so. I just need to figure something out. Go back to recharging. I'll be home by dawn."

"I don't know if…"

"I need to go for a walk and think about something," he said. "I promise I'm fine, don't worry. Just get some recharge."

Elita took in a deep vent. "All right," she said. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He smiled at her. "I promise."

Orion got up and left the apartment. He took the elevator down to the street and went outside. Since Iacon was on the north pole, it was never completely dark, but never really light either. Unless you lived up in the towers, you never actually _saw_ the sun as it skimmed the horizon all on-cycle and all off-cycle.

Orion transformed and drove. The streets were less crowded during the off-cycle, but there was always activity here. As he drove, he paid attention to his bond. Every once in a while, he could feel it again—that second set of emotions there. It had a distinct Elita feel to it so he knew it was her. It _had_ to be her. He realized that every time he focused on it, it disappeared, so after a while, he pulled off to the side of the road and sat in vehicle mode, trying to relax and let his processor wander.

Yes. There it was. Fear, anxiety… He tried to reach out to comfort her and the response was overwhelming. It was desperate, pleading, almost words. _I need you!_

And then it was gone again.

Orion moved to the walkway and transformed. Other mecha drove past as he stood and looked out at the dusk-colored city. Somehow, somewhere, Elita was in trouble.

That feeling, that connection was stronger and more real than his connection with the Elita who was back in their apartment. This world was perfect. Everything was happening exactly the way he wanted it to. It had seemed strange before, but now he was certain. His current life was an impossibility.

"This is fake," he muttered.

"No it's not."

Orion spun. A mech who he didn't recognize stood just a few paces away. "What did you say?"

"This _is_ real," the mech reiterated. "It's simply another _version_ of reality."

"Who are you?"

"Young Prime…"

"Elita is in trouble. Where is she? How did you… who _are_ you? And… I'm not a Prime."

The mech frowned. "Elita is not in trouble."

"Who are you?"

"My designation is Vector," the mech said.

"Vector Prime?"

The mech nodded once.

Orion looked down, trying to put everything into place. "Am I dreaming or something?"

"No."

"Why is everything so… it's all wrong. It's too good to be true, tell me what's going on."

Vector Prime frowned. "I almost don't want to. You're cheating somehow."

"What?"

He huffed. "This version of reality you are currently in is the version where you are the happiest. All of the things you wished were true have become true. All of your friends and enemies have ended up where you wanted them to be. The world is becoming, and will continue to become, the utopia that you only dreamed of in your original reality."

"So there's… another version of reality where I was before? I don't remember…"

"Correct." Vector Prime said. "But you do not want to return there. It would be better for you to remain."

"Why? What happens in that reality?"

"Are you certain you want to know?"

Orion hesitated, but only for a moment. That reality was the one where Elita was in trouble. "Yes," he said. "Tell me."

"In that reality, things were not resolved peacefully. Senator Shockwave was sent to an experimental reprogramming facility, you started a resistance that resulted in violence and war."

"War?" Orion said. "No. I…"

"You started a war. And currently, in that reality, you are continuing it. The former gladiator Megatronus has raised an army, and is trying to overthrow the Council system by force, and you, young Orion Pax, have been chosen as a Prime, and are expected to lead an army of your own against him."

"What…" Orion said. "That can't be true. You… I'm just dreaming, and I'm going to wake up and… I don't know. That's ridiculous. Megatronus is a good mech."

Vector Prime just looked at him.

Silence fell between them. Orion couldn't believe it. That didn't sound like another version of reality, that sounded like a nightmare.

"None of that happens in this reality. In this reality, your actions will not result in loss of lives, Megatronus is a good mech who now benevolently rules Kaon, and Shockwave is the head of the Iacon Council. In this reality, you are happy, and you do not bear the burdens of a Prime. But you may leave if you want. It is your choice."

Vector Prime disappeared.

Orion was almost too overcome to be shocked or confused. He put a hand to his helm. How was it possible? How could Orion have started a war? He couldn't have. He'd _never_ start a war. He couldn't be a Prime either. He didn't want that power, and he wasn't worthy of it in any case…

In this reality, everything was perfect.

But in that reality, Elita was in trouble. She needed him.

* * *

Smoke and dust filled the atmosphere.

" _Ironhide, they've taken the groundbridge control building and put a shield around the whole sector. We can't bridge you out of there."_

" _What!"_ Ironhide demanded, spark sinking. He dodged one plasma blast, winced as a second hit his armor, and then returned fire. If the Decepticons had put up a bridge shield, that meant there would be no escaping. The 'Cons had broken quickly through the Autobot lines, and Ironhide had almost decided to call a retreat.

It was too late now.

He heard Elita's voice over the comm. _"The Decepticons are demanding that we surrender."_

A nearby explosion shorted out his audios for an astrosecond, but he could still hear his friends arguing over his comm.

" _We can't surrender!"_ Red Alert said. _"They'll just kill everyone."_

" _They'll just kill everyone if we_ don't _surrender,"_ Mainspring said.

"' _Hide, do ya think ya can get ta the control building?"_

" _I don't know,"_ Ironhide growled. _"Where is it? Do_ you _think we can get there?"_

Ironhide's unit was holed up behind a large pile of rubble that had once been a suspended bridge. The Decepticons were advancing on their position, trying to surround them. It wouldn't be long. And the battle was going about as badly everywhere.

" _Doubt it,"_ Jazz said. _"It's not too far, but even if ya_ did _get there, it's pretty heavily guarded."_

" _Well, we can't surrender,"_ Ironhide said. _"So figure out a way to get us out of here!"_

" _For starters, can ya take your unit down a level?"_ Jazz said. _"Ya're getting surrounded, mech."_

" _I know that,"_ Ironhide snapped. _"There's no way down to the next level for at least a block in all directions."_

" _Cut a hole down to the next level and drop."_

" _Are you insane?"_

Jazz didn't answer.

Ironhide sent orders to the mecha in his unit to start trying to cut through the ground so they could go down to the next level of the city. He listened to the frantic chatter over the open comm. Jazz and Mainspring were directing the Autobot troops from their side. Red Alert was overseeing everything and making decisions. Ironhide had decided to come out here and be the ground commander, like he had for previous battles. He'd known his survival chances were a lot lower this time, but he'd rather be out fighting for his life alongside his soldiers than cooped up in Mirage's tower, watching the battle unfold.

Ironhide leaned out into the open and fired a couple of times, taking down a Decepticon with each shot before ducking back behind his cover.

" _Okay,"_ Jazz said _"I've kinda got a plan for taking out the groundbridge shield. I need ya ta merge with a couple other units of Autobots, though, so when the shield goes down we can bridge all of ya out. Get down ta that lower level."_

" _What's your plan exactly? How risky is it?"_

" _Hey, I'm trying ta have ten fragging conversations at once here, just trust me!"_

Ironhide sighed. There was another nearby explosion and he heard screaming.

A plasma shot hit him from behind.

He spun and returned fire through the smoke and dust. There were Decepticons on all sides now.

Down to his left, his soldiers finished cutting a hole in the ground. Ironhide ordered all of them to jump down and covered them as they lowered themselves into the darkness. They'd have to leave the injured behind. There wasn't time to try and bring them.

Ironhide followed the last of his mecha into the hole, and landed heavily on the street below. Jazz told them which way to go, and Ironhide led the charge through the dimly lit understreet. Burning debris fell from the upper levels. The city was on fire. They ran into a group of Decepticons. Ironhide slammed into one, knocking him off the edge of the street into a deep chasm. The next Decepticon blocked Ironhide's first few attacks, but then Ironhide shoved him off the edge too, and pushed through the rest of the group.

He and his soldiers ran forward again, following Jazz's instructions. He'd lost a few more mechs and was down to about fifteen in this unit now. They ran into another group of Decepticons, but managed to fight them off too, then came up a set of stairs to the main level.

Nearby, Ironhide could see a ring of Autobots—surrounded and shrinking.

" _Jazz, this group is completely exposed!"_ Ironhide said. _"They're all going to die!"_

" _Not if we get them a bridge! The shield should go down in less than a breem!"_

" _Are you sure?"_

Jazz didn't answer.

Great.

Well, better to go down fighting. Ironhide charged toward the Autobots, firing on the rear of the Decepticon forces. His mechs followed him, shouting as well and adding their own plasma fire to his.

* * *

An explosion shook the ground, and those still on their pedes fell to their knees to hide behind the barrier as the wave of burning shrapnel passed overhelm.

"Go!"

Impactor launched over the barrier and his mecha charged toward the next defensible position.

" _Hey, Impactor!"_ Jazz's voice said over the comm.

Impactor answered. _"What?"_

" _Could ya pick up the pace? We're running out of time."_

" _We're trying, all right."_

The closer they got to the building where the groundbridge shield generator was, the more Decepticons they ran into.

" _Try dropping down a few levels. We just got intel that the power source for the shield is three levels underground. If you can take that out, we can bridge everyone home."_

" _Got it,"_ Impactor said, and sent a comm. to his mechs to let them know they were about to change directions.

They'd originally been asked to fight their way into the control room and try to shut it off normally. Blowing up the power source could cause a lot more destruction, and was even more of a suicide mission.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He hadn't exactly been planning to die this orn.

" _Boss?"_ one of his mechs asked.

Impactor held up a hand, trying to figure out what route they should take. He had a map of the city-state, and the lower levels near here were maze-like.

" _How long do we have?"_ he asked Jazz.

" _No time,"_ Jazz said. _"We need those bridges five breems ago."_

The Autobots were losing. With that shield up, the only way to retreat would be to break through the Decepticon lines, and everyone was probably surrounded.

" _Okay,"_ Impactor announced to his mecha _. "We've got to move faster. No more caution. We're going to drop a couple of levels and find the shield's power source so we can destroy it. Let's go."_ He shared the new destination coordinates with them, but only gave them half an astrosecond to look at them before leading the charge out into the open. He and Springer went in front, barreling through the mass of Decepticons blocking them. They broke through the lines and kept running. Impactor let himself fall behind a little, and guarded Springer's back. The big green gladiator didn't slow down as he crashed through another group of Decepticons, and then—following an order from Impactor—ran down a staircase that led to a lower level of the city. There was fighting down here too. In the distance, Impactor could see a small group of Autobots surrounded by a sea of Decepticons. There was nothing he could do about that. He counted his mecha as they came sliding one by one down the stair rail. They were missing a few. Oh well. He led the way along another long road at a full sprint. He was one of the biggest and definitely the slowest, and the others had no problem keeping up with him.

They ran into another group of Decepticons at an intersection, but made short work of them and kept going, dropping down to the third level as they approached the building. They got to the outer wall and used a couple of charges to blow a nice big hole in it. Hopefully, the sound would be masked by the cacophony of the battle.

" _You in yet?"_ Jazz's voice sounded desperate.

" _We're here, we just need to find the thing and set the charges."_

They ran through the building, using schematics that Jazz had sent to Impactor, until they found the room they were looking for.

Impactor burst in, and fired at the two guards stationed there. Both shots hit their mark, but not before one of the guards put his hand to the side of his helm to activate his comm.

There were two doors into the room. Impactor wasn't sure how long it might take for Decepticon back-up to show, but he and his team needed some time to figure out how to destroy this thing.

"Springer, Rotostorm! Defend the south door, Seaspray and Speedblaze, you take the east door, buy us some time to figure out how to blow this thing up."

There were cheers and the mechs he'd named moved into position.

The power source seemed to be well-built and sturdy, but it wasn't meant to withstand powerful explosives.

There might be a back-up power source, though.

Better to find a way to bring down the whole building if they could.

A plasma beam came streaking through one of the doors and Springer dashed out into the hallway to fight the 'Cons there.

And if the Decepticons got into the room and managed to diffuse the bomb after Impactor's team left…

He watched nervously as his mecha set charges and listened to the sounds of fighting that could be heard outside both of the doors now.

" _Okay,"_ he said over the comm. when he could tell the explosives were nearly ready. _"We can't let the 'Cons get in here and ruin our nice work before those bombs go off. We're going to split into two groups and go out those doors. We'll get as far away as possible while still holding the 'Cons off, until the last ten astroseconds, and then we'll run like pit away from the building."_

He waited for someone to question him. After all, they'd only been really working together for a short period of time, not long enough for them to trust him completely. But no one argued. He could see the grim determination on their faceplates, though. This plan involved a lot of risk, and no one wanted to be close when a battery that size blew up. It might take the whole neighborhood out.

One of his mechs set the bomb. _"One breem,"_ he said over the comm.

"Go!" Impactor shouted, and relayed the update to Jazz and Mainspring.

They rushed the doors, piling out into the hallway. The Decepticon reinforcements were pushed back, all the way up the flight of stairs and into the hallways on the second floor. His mechs worked quickly, emptying the entire floor of Decepticons before moving up toward the level with the actual control room. There they met with more resistance, and couldn't even get to the stairs. Fortunately, the Decepticons didn't seem to be trying to come down the stairs either, just hold their position.

Twenty astroseconds left.

Impactor stepped back while his mecha continued fighting. There was an open doorway nearby, leading onto an empty road.

Eighteen astroseconds.

Ten wasn't long enough.

" _Go!"_ Impactor shouted. _"Fall back now! South exit! South exit!"_

Several transformed and sped out the door. The road outside was long and straight and empty of Decepticons—their best bet out of here. Impactor covered their retreat before stomping out the door. He transformed as well and took up the rear, though his alt mode wasn't that much faster than running.

Twelve astroseconds.

Eleven.

Ten.

* * *

Elita shuttered her optics, listening to the cacophony of noise, both in the room and over the comm.

"Come on, come on, come on…" Jazz muttered anxiously

" _We only have 73% of ground troops responding,"_

" _They're getting closer."_

" _Everyone's surrounded…"_

" _I know! Ironhide, keep that gap in the Decepticon lines open, there's another group joining you!"_

" _We need to retreat in less than two breems or it will be too late! We're not going to make it!"_

" _We'll make it!"_ Mainspring said. _"Just ten astroseconds! Ten… nine…"_

She could feel Orion's emotions over the bond. It had been acting strangely since he'd started this trial. Sometimes it felt like he was trying to reach out to her, but the connection was muted somehow, and she didn't think he could really feel her. There had been one moment, earlier on in the battle, where she'd felt him respond to her, and she'd reached out, desperately begging him to come back. They were going to lose without him.

Of course, even if he was here, there wouldn't be much he could do. At this point, he was unhappy about something, and she wasn't sure what that meant but it wasn't helping her feel any better about the situation.

They were waiting on some unit who'd been assigned to get into the control center and blow it up. That would bring the shield down, so the Autobots could retreat through groundbridges. But it was taking longer than they'd expected. Every astrosecond cost them lives. They were running out of time.

Chromia gasped. Elita looked over as her sister leaned over in her chair, faceplate scrunched up in pain.

Ironhide.

No.

" _Hide!"_ Jazz said. _"Frag it!"_

Elita left her chair and sprinted over to Chromia. Moonracer came over as well. If Ironhide offlined, Chromia's life was in danger too.

"He's hurt," she gasped. "He's hurt... I think he's unconscious."

" _The groundbridge shield is down! We can bridge them out!"_ Mainspring said.

"And you can bridge us in!" Chromia said through gritted denta.

Elita and Moonracer looked at each other.

There was no one to tell them no.

* * *

The explosion broke the world. Impactor felt himself thrown forward by the shock wave, and he and all the others flew through the atmosphere. The thunderous sound that accompanied the success of their mission rang in their audios.

They all crashed into each other and skidded along the ground before coming to a stop in a heap. Impactor felt what seemed like hundreds of little bits of hot shrapnel hit his back, cracking his armor, and he shuttered his optics as a wave of paint-blistering fire washed over them.

When it was past, he heard the others stir, and forced himself to a kneeling position. _"Everyone check in."_

They all responded, letting him know they were alive and conscious. Impactor himself had been closest to the blast and his frame had shielded many of the others. It looked like just about everyone had gotten some pretty nasty metal burn, though.

" _We made it out."_ He sent the comm. to headquarters, though not with much hope of an answer. They'd be busy trying to orchestrate the retreat.

He was surprised when Mainspring answered almost immediately. _"Give me your coordinates and I'll get you a bridge."_

* * *

Billowing clouds of smoke glowed green, illuminated by the groundbridges. Pockets of Autobots collapsed in on themselves, crowding through the spinning portals. The Decepticon forces surged forward, screaming their victory, taking as many of their retreating foes as they could, until the Autobots had disappeared and the groundbridges closed.

Slowly, the lights went out, one after another.

Until there was just one groundbridge left.

" _Keep holding!"_ Chromia insisted. She knew they were running out of time. In half a breem, she'd have to call for a retreat, or they'd lose all of these soldiers.

They couldn't find Ironhide. He was injured, not offline, and she wasn't going to leave him here. If the Decepticons found him, they'd capture him, and there was too much information in his processor that they couldn't afford to give to the 'Cons. Chromia clung to that excuse, knowing that even if she hadn't had it, she'd still be doing this—putting other mecha's lives in danger for the sake of her sparkmate.

Elita fought beside her. Moonracer was up on the roof of a nearby building, searching. She had good optics, and very good aim with a rifle.

" _There! I think I see him!"_ Moonracer said.

Chromia nodded, refusing to let her relief overwhelm her. This was not over yet.

" _North northwest of your position. About 0.015 Clicks"_

" _Chromia, if you try to push through, you'll get stranded,"_ Mainspring's voice said. _"That's far behind enemy lines. You're also running out of time. If the line collapses, not everyone's going to make it out that bridge."_

" _However,"_ Jazz said. _"If ya make the retreat call, and let the 'Cons pass you…"_

Chromia listened to Jazz's plan, then gave the orders.

She and Elita and a small group of Autobots dropped to the ground and played dead while the rest started their retreat. Moonracer jumped off of the building she was on and retreated with the rest of them. Good. Chromia had been worried she'd argue about that.

The Decepticons raced past. Chromia shuttered her optics, listening, waiting as the enemy soldiers charged the retreating Autobots.

The sound faded slightly as the Decepticons left them behind.

" _Now!"_

Chromia leaped up and sprinted north-northwest. She fired and hit a Decepticon straggler in the optic, then took another one down with a knife in his spark chamber. Off to one side, Elita knocked a 'Con's pedes out from under him and shot him in the helm before sprinting to keep up with the group.

Chromia measured how far they'd come until she saw Ironhide up ahead, on the ground. She knocked another Decepticon out of the way and reached him first. The others caught up and made a ring around them as Decepticons started converging on the small group. Chromia sent their exact coordinates to Mainspring. They only needed to hold for a few astroseconds.

Then she stood and joined the circle. Several of her mecha fell before the bridge opened right next to them. Two of the Autobot soldiers grabbed Ironhide and carried him through the bridge. Chromia and Elita followed and came out into the groundbridge station, which was full of commotion and shouting. _"Take Ironhide straight to Ratchet. He's waiting."_ Jazz's voice said, and then gave them directions. Chromia beckoned the soldiers carrying her sparkmate to follow her. Elita came too, and Moonracer pushed through the crowds and joined them. These soldiers were covered in soot and energon. So many were injured—so many offline. Chromia was still getting death toll estimates. They'd had to leave a lot of mecha behind. The Decepticons would have hundreds, maybe even thousands of prisoners.

But they'd pay.

Chromia would see that Megatron paid for all of this death and destruction somehow.

They got Ironhide to Ratchet, who left the other mech he'd been working on and came over. All the injured were on the ground in neat rows. Medics rushed back and forth, rolling equipment, trading tools, and talking in quiet, sharp tones as they worked. Mecha screamed and moaned and offlined.

Elita let out a choked sob, and Chromia turned to look at her, suddenly terrified that she was hurt too. She couldn't see any injuries, but Elita's faceplate was buried in her hands, and she swayed, as if she were about to fall. Chromia stepped closer and put her arms around her trembling sister to support her.

"Ellie?"

"I…I killed someone," Elita sobbed.

Chromia shuttered her optics and held her sister more tightly. Moonracer joined them, and they stood there with their arms around their sweet, gentle Elita while she cried.

Yes.

Chromia would make sure Megatron paid for this.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Heads up, I'm going to be posting on Saturdays for the next couple of weeks.

2\. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	34. Aftermath

Orion was pulled from his thoughts when the sun dome came on. The sudden light reminded him that he'd told Elita he'd be back by now. Then again, he wasn't altogether certain the Elita here was real.

He walked over to the railing where Vector Prime had appeared before, not entirely certain how to get the mech to show up again.

"You have made your decision, haven't you?"

Orion started, then turned to see Vector standing behind him. The ancient Prime stared out over the road, watching alt modes go by on the street.

"Yes, I have," Orion said.

Vector didn't look at him. "What will you do?"

"I will return."

"You will abandon your life here, and all of your friends?"

"No," Orion said. "I don't think you've been honest with me about that. You claim this is some form of reality, but I doubt that's the case. You, yourself, called me a Prime when we first met. If this was reality, you wouldn't have called me that because I'm not a Prime here. And if I _am_ a Prime, then this is not where I need to be."

"Reality is in the eye of the beholder," Vector said, finally turning to look at Orion. "From your perspective, what makes this reality less real? And how do you know the other reality isn't an illusion as well?"

Orion shook his helm. "Even if both are real—or even if neither are real, I have to go back. If all of the terrible things you said about the other reality are true, then I need to be there, to help everyone. I do… I _do_ want to stay here, but not if mecha need my help somewhere else. That's my decision."

Vector Prime hesitated, looking thoughtful, almost as if he questioned Orion's sincerity. Then he nodded. "Well done, Prime, though I still think you're cheating somehow. You may proceed to the next trial."

The next trial? What did that mean?

The world grayed to nothing and Orion felt a sudden sensation of falling.

He un-shuttered his optics with a start. He was sitting in a circular courtyard.

Yoketron's courtyard.

Memories flooded back and he gasped as they threatened to overwhelm his processor. Then, as everything settled into place, a wave of sorrow washed over him.

Vector Prime had not been exaggerating about the state of this world. He had not been exaggerating about Orion's burdens.

The sorrow passed quickly, though. Orion felt… different. He reached out to Elita over their bond, and she responded enthusiastically. She was sorrowful too. What had happened while he was gone?

Orion checked his internal timepiece. It was early in the on-cycle—the same time of day that it had been in the trial when Vector had sent him back. And he'd been in the trial for a little less than two orns.

He suddenly realized he was alone. Where was Master Yoketron?

As soon as he moved, Orion found he was stiff and sore. He stood, wincing as he stretched. He ought to let everyone know he was awake and coming back, but he wanted a few moments to think first.

Just as he was finished stretching, though, Yoketron came out into the courtyard.

"Welcome back, Orion." The Circuit-Su master looked anxious. "Have you contacted any of the other Autobots yet?"

"No," Orion said. "Why?"

"Good. They can wait a breem or two while I explain what's happened…"

"Something happened?"

"Many things," Yoketron said. "No good news, unfortunately. While you were in the trial, a Decepticon infiltrator attempted to kill Prowl. I'm told Ratchet barely managed to save him, but he has not regained consciousness yet. Then, last off-cycle, there was an attack on Tesarus."

Orion stared at him.

"The Autobots lost the battle, but managed to retreat."

If Prowl was unconscious, then they'd been fighting without his direction. "Were there... many casualties?"

Yoketron nodded grimly. "Several thousand were either offlined or abandoned in the field."

Orion shuttered his optics.

"I am sorry," Yoketron said. "Megatron must have known you were gone and decided it was a good time to strike."

Silence fell.

"In light of that, I thought it might be better to let you go straight back to base, and perhaps in a few orns, you can return here and we will discuss how the trial went. Unless you would like to talk about it now?"

"No, I should go," Orion said.

He had chosen to leave the trial and return to this. He had known it would be painful. He had known there was a war, and he had known his role in it. He had chosen to come back.

"Good luck," Yoketron said.

"Thank you."

He commed Ironhide as he walked through Landquake and Petra's apartment.

" _Optimus,"_ Ironhide's voice sounded tired. _"Good_ — _You're back. We needed you last off-cycle."_

"I know," Orion said as he left the building Yoketron was staying at. "Yoketron told me. I apologize."

" _Comm. Mainspring. He's in charge right now. He'll get you a bridge."_

Mainspring? "Why is Mainspring in charge?" Orion asked. "What about you and Red Alert and Jazz?"

" _I'm injured. Actually just regained consciousness half a joor ago. I don't know about Red Alert and Jazz."_

"All right," Orion said. He would have to ask Mainspring what was going on. "I'll talk to you later."

He ended his comm. with Ironhide, and commed Mainspring, who answered immediately. _"Oh, thank Primus,"_ he said. _"Are you coming back? Where are you? We'll get you a groundbridge."_

Orion sent his coordinates, and a few moments later a groundbridge opened up in front of him, startling the other mecha on the streets. It wasn't technically legal to open them anywhere but the station, but he wasn't going to complain.

Orion walked through the bridge, which was apparently a two-way portal because it opened up into Mirage's tower instead of the groundbridge station.

Mainspring was standing there, looking stressed and exhausted.

"It seems I've missed a lot," Orion said, as the bridge closed behind him.

"You have no idea," Mainspring said.

"Yoketron told me there was a battle."

"Yes," Mainspring said. "Though we haven't been able to get everyone together for any sort of post-battle meeting yet. That's probably the next thing we have to do. Clean-up's not an issue since, well, the Decepticons have Tesarus now so we can't do anything there."

Right.

"Orion, there were a lot of casualties." Mainspring looked down. "And we had to leave a lot of injured mecha behind."

"Yoketron told me. I will call together a meeting. How soon will you be available for that?"

"I can be ready in half a joor," Mainspring said. "You'll probably need to go physically knock on some doors to get everyone else to come. Red Alert and Jazz have barricaded themselves in their respective offices, and neither of them is answering comms. from me. Oh, and I don't know if Ratchet's back from the hospital yet. I haven't seen him, but I know we did bring enough injured mecha home to keep him busy for a while…"

Orion nodded. "Thank you for all you've done in my absence."

"You're welcome," Mainspring said dully. "Thank you for coming back so quickly."

Orion nodded, and walked away. He felt like he ought to offer to take over, but he didn't know enough about the current situation so he figured he'd let Mainspring deal with things until after the meeting. For now, he could round everyone up. He commed Red Alert, but the security mech didn't answer, so he commed Jazz instead.

Jazz answered after several astroseconds. _"Orion…"_

"I'm back. Can I come to your office to talk to you?"

There was no answer.

"Jazz?"

Jazz cut. the comm.

At least he'd answered it. Orion walked to his office and pressed the entry request, then waited. Several astroseconds later, Jazz opened the door and gestured for him to come in.

Jazz's office was a disaster. Datapads and styluses littered the desk and the floor, along with several empty energon cubes. The desk itself was skewed, and one of the chairs was on its side, right next to a frighteningly large energon stain on the ground by the door.

"Sorry 's a mess," Jazz said, as he picked up the fallen chair and set it upright, then stumbled over to sit in the one behind the crooked desk. He put his pedes up on the surface and crossed his arms.

Orion sat in the empty chair. "What's that?" he asked.

"What?" Jazz said.

Orion gestured to the dried energon on the ground.

"Oh, that... um..." Jazz frowned as if trying to remember. "One of my mecha tried ta kill Prowl in here. I ain't had time ta clean it up."

"Oh," Orion said, even more concerned for Prowl now. Yoketron had said he hadn't regained consciousness yet. How badly had he been hurt?

He'd have to talk to Ratchet about it later.

"So," Orion said. "I heard about the battle. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, m'fine."

Orion reached down to pick up one of the empty energon cubes on the floor and studied it thoughtfully. "I don't mean physically. You seem—"

Jazz laughed, cutting him off. "Mech, ya have no idea. Go tell that fragging tactician that he's not allowed ta get assassinated ever again I can't…" he choked off and shook his helm.

"Jazz?"

Jazz still wouldn't look at him. "I ain't ever doing that again," he said softly. "I got a third of our mecha offlined."

Orion sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"Yeah, me too," Jazz mumbled, then took a deep vent. "It don't matter."

"We're going to have a meeting in half a joor," Orion said. "To talk about the battle."

Jazz scowled up at the ceiling, tilting his chair back on two legs.

"Jazz?"

The mech shook his helm. "Don't wanna know the damages," he muttered. "Just pretend I'm there."

"We need you to come to the meeting."

"No." Jazz let his chair thump down on all four legs again.

Orion frowned. "Are you… sure you're all right?"

Jazz didn't answer.

"Jazz."

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "I just ain't going ta your slagging meeting!"

"Please."

"I don't wanna know how many mecha are dead, cuz of me."

Orion shook his helm. "It's not—"

"I killed mecha back in Quantum," Jazz said, sounding distant now. "I killed a lot of mecha. And then I told myself I wouldn't kill anyone again, but I always knew it was a lie."

"It's not your fault."

"Jus' go away an' leave me alone,"

"You didn't kill anyone—"

"I _know!_ " Jazz shouted, then uncrossed his arms and covered his faceplate with his hands. "Look I'm… I'm sorry. I don't… think I'd be very helpful at th'meeting anyway."

Orion sighed. "Maybe you're right. But if you're not coming to the meeting, I think you should go to your room and get some rest instead."

"I don't wanna do that either."

"I can make it an order."

Even with the visor, the dirty look Jazz gave him was impressive. Orion stood, and Jazz sighed and took his pedes off of the desk, then got up as well. He walked past Orion, hesitated in the doorway, and then left the room.

Orion followed him down the hall, and then stopped at the door to Red Alert's office. Hopefully, the head of security was in a better state. Red Alert still hadn't answered his comm.

Orion knocked on his door.

And waited.

"Red Alert?" he said. "Red Alert, it's Optimus. Please let me in."

Nothing.

Orion tried comming him again, and knocked a little louder on his door.

" _Stop that!"_ Red Alert said over the comm.

"Red Alert," Orion said. "I need to talk to you."

" _No. The battle was very stressful, and right now I just want to be left alone to do my job."_

"May I come in?"

" _You aren't supposed to be back for several more orns… What if you're Makeshift coming to offline me?"_

"What?" Orion said. "Who is… Makeshift?"

" _Go away!"_ Red Alert said.

"We're going to have a meeting in half a joor to talk about the battle."

Red Alert didn't answer, but a few astroseconds later the door opened and he let Orion in, watching him warily.

Orion took in a deep vent. "I am so sorry that you had to take my place in the last battle. I know it's not easy to be in charge."

Red Alert seemed to relax a little. "Apology accepted," he said. "It's all right, Prime. It isn't your fault. Ironhide should have stayed here to help me run things. I can't…Primus, I barely made it through the battle without panicking." He flinched. "I don't know if I could do that again…"

"Will you come to the meeting?"

"Yes," Red Alert said "I'll come. Now please leave my office. And close that door on your way out."

Orion backed up and let the door close behind himself. Two down, one to go. He headed for Ratchet's office. While he walked there, he made a general announcement that he was back and they were going to have a meeting about the battle. He passed Elita in the hallway and she smiled at him, but they shared sorrow over the bond. He thought of the cheerful, happy Elita from the trial and wished the real one could be that happy. But, all things considered, he'd much rather have a sorrowful, real Elita than any kind of imaginary one.

Ratchet's office was not locked, so Orion let himself in. Ratchet himself wasn't here, but Prowl was, hooked up to all sorts of machinery and lying facedown on a berth. He didn't know enough to interpret the readings on the machines, but the patch of temp plating on the Praxian's back looked to be right over his spark chamber.

Prowl could easily have offlined from a wound like that.

And Orion couldn't help feeling responsible in a way. Too many mecha had offlined because of him already. Roller, Ultra Magnus, all of the soldiers who'd fought the Decepticons while he sat safe in Mirage's tower... Orion tried to ignore the guilty feeling in his tanks and left the room, comming Ratchet on his way out.

The meeting itself was painful. Everyone who wasn't injured showed up—even Jazz, though he spent most of the meeting slumped forward on the table, apparently recharging. Since Prowl wasn't there, Orion had Mainspring give the tactical report. Chromia's damages report filled the room with sickening silence, and she finished with the bitter comment that at least recruitment had gone up since the battle, so they'd have more sparks to throw at the 'Cons next time.

When everyone was finished, Orion felt like he ought to say something to cheer them up, but there wasn't anything cheerful about the situation. Making light of it would be disrespectful to the mecha who'd offlined, and those who were prisoners of the Decepticons.

He thought of the trial again. He could have avoided being at this meeting if he had stayed in his fake reality. But the meeting would still have happened, just without him. Probably also without Red Alert or Jazz.

"Thank you," Orion said. "Thank you all for being here at this meeting." He looked down. "Thank you for running that battle. If I might be so bold… I think you did a good job."

Around the table, mecha lowered their helms.

Orion continued. "I know it didn't turn out very well, but imagine how it would have been without you." He shook his helm. "I know this has been hard, and... I am so sorry that I was not here to help. This probably won't be the hardest thing we have to get through, though. This war will keep getting harder. Since Megatronus left us, I've often complained that I didn't ask for any of this—that I didn't volunteer to lead an army and watch mecha offline. But after the events of the past few orns, I've realized that it doesn't matter.

"Unrestrained, Megatron would take over the world and reign with darker tyranny than the Council. So, I will do all I can to stop him, even if that means giving up everything I have, even if it means suffering or… watching my friends suffer, and even if it means war. However, I realize that some of you may feel differently, and I will not force _anyone_ to follow me. The choice belongs to each of you, individually."

He let that hang in the atmosphere.

To his surprise, Red Alert spoke first.

"I'm not leaving," he said.

"We're with you, Orion," Elita said. Chromia and Moonracer nodded. Mecha around the table reaffirmed their loyalty and decision to stay, and the room filled with noise before quieting again.

"Thank you," Orion said trying to fight back the tide of emotion swelling within him. "Your support means… everything to me. Now, we have a lot of work to do." He looked around the table. The hopelessness was still there, but it no longer dominated the room. There was determination now too—purpose.

"Meeting adjourned."

* * *

Talking to the Iacon High Council was somewhat less intimidating when they were communicating via holoscreen. Even so, Orion certainly hadn't been looking forward to this conversation.

"Optimus Prime," Lord Halogen said. "We would like an explanation."

Orion tried to think of something that would satisfy them.

"Not only did you lose Tesarus to the Decepticons, along with an unacceptably large percentage of your soldiers, there are rumors that you weren't even involved in directing the battle. Where were you?"

He might as well just tell them what had happened. "I was away from base, training to receive the Matrix of Leadership," he said. "And I did not know about the battle until it was over."

"How is this possible?" Halogen sounded skeptical. "The attack was in the middle of the off-cycle, and surely your mecha would have contacted you, unless the organization of your army is even worse than we thought."

Orion took in a deep vent. "I left for a few orns in order to perform a task necessary for receiving the Matrix. During that task, it was not possible for them to contact me. We could not have foreseen that the Decepticons would attack when they did. Furthermore, one of our commanders was nearly assassinated and so he couldn't help direct the battle."

Halogen shook his helm. "Last time we spoke, I believe I made it clear that you will _not_ be receiving the Matrix of Leadership until after you have defeated the Decepticons. This loss is unacceptable. Megatron has _three_ city-states now, Prime, and all of them are major energon resources. You _cannot_ allow this sort of thing to happen."

"I apologize," Orion said.

"Apologies will not get Tesarus back," Halogen said. "You must reclaim it."

Orion's optics widened. "You want me to… you want me to take the city back?"

"Yes," Halogen said.

"We don't have the resources for that."

"Perhaps if you were willing to accept our guidance, you would. For a start, we can help you draft mecha from the lower classes as soldiers."

"I will not force mecha to fight."

"Then you will lose this war, and we will all die. You must stop Megatron before he becomes too powerful."

Orion looked down.

"Prime," Halogen said. "We may disagree about many things, but we are not your enemies. If you lose, then we lose, and if we lose then so does _all_ of Cybertron. Megatron will fill the world with chaos. Our main priority is to prevent that—to keep the peace."

He almost sounded sincere.

Almost.

"You have good intentions," Halogen said. "And you are admittedly a charismatic leader, but you do not have the experience that we do. Draw from our experience. If we work together, we can end this war before it's too late, and then you can work on receiving the Matrix."

Orion wished that he could trust these mecha. The Tesarus battle had been a heavy blow to his resources, and it would be nice to have some advice from more experienced mecha.

But not the Iacon Council.

"I am sorry," Orion said. "But I know that if I allow you to influence me, you will try to take my army for yourselves. I would be glad to accept your help, but only on my terms. My promise still stands—if you assist me, then when this is all over, I will grant you freedom and amnesty. But I will not make myself answerable to you ever again."

Halogen's expression didn't change. If he was disappointed by Orion's answer, he didn't show it. "Very well," he said at length. "We would advise you to do everything in your power to reclaim that city. We would also advise you not to leave your army leaderless for orns at a time."

Orion nodded. "Thank you."

"When you are ready to accept our help, feel free to get in touch with us."

"I will. Thank you for your time."

"It is our pleasure," Halogen said. "Until we speak again."

Orion nodded.

The screen went blank.

* * *

Megatron tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne, waiting anxiously for an answer from Vos. It didn't really matter if he accomplished his goal in this meeting. He didn't really need to make an alliance with Vos. He just needed to open up communications with them—to receive permission to visit their city-state. The alliance would come later—after they enacted Starscream's plan.

Starscream's plan was dangerous, and Megatron was more nervous about that than he wanted to admit. It could backfire on them so easily if it went wrong. They would have to be careful.

But if it did work…

He checked his internal timepiece. The Vosian official was three breems late, now. He glanced at Starscream, who didn't seem worried, then at Soundwave.

 _What do you think about this?_ He wondered.

It took Soundwave several astroseconds to comm. him with an answer.

" _I don't like it. I think it could have unintended consequences, even if everything goes as planned."_

Megatron nodded. That could be true.

It was interesting that Soundwave hadn't made any moral arguments about it, though…

" _Would it help if I did?"_ Soundwave asked.

A valid point—Megatron didn't really care if Soundwave thought Starscream's plan was morally allowable or not. But normally, the mech had _something_ to say about this sort of thing.

 _If you have a concern, I'd like you to tell me, whether or not you think I'll listen._ Megatron thought. He didn't want to lose Soundwave's loyalty, or miss out on potentially useful advice from him. That mech was the only one he felt like he _could_ trust.

And so long as Megatron could trust him, he couldn't lose.

" _If you feel like this is wrong, you shouldn't do it,"_ Soundwave said. _"You know I don't like it. But if it will help win the war quickly, then I won't argue."_

Megatron smiled. He liked this new attitude a lot better than the mech's earlier take on things.

The holoscreen lit up, and Megatron sat up in his seat and stopped drumming his fingers on the arm.

"We are receiving a communi-ication from Vos," Soundwave said.

"Thank you, Soundwave." Megatron said. _And thank you for supporting me._

A seeker appeared on the screen. Megatron had never seen him before, but he recognized the mech's arrogant stance, and his disdainful expression.

The rich and the powerful all thought they were better than anyone else.

"Good orn, Megatron," the mech said.

Megatron nodded, trying to remind himself that he needed to keep his cool—he needed this conversation to go well. "Thank you very much for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me," he said.

He needed this mech—this minor official to make his case to the Vos Council. He only needed his pede in the door, though. He only had to develop the beginnings of a working relationship with the city-state, so the Autobots got nervous. So they got desperate.

"I'm interested to hear what you have to say." The seeker didn't look interested. In fact, he was studying something off to the side of the screen now—not even paying attention.

"Well," Megatron said. "Considering the extent of my resources and your resources, I believe we could stand to benefit from one another."

"Hmph," The seeker said. "You want our help in your war, as I suspected. That's disappointing."

Megatron chose his words carefully. "We know we can't ask you to stoop so low as to fight alongside the likes of my troops, but there are other ways in which the mecha of Vos might benefit alongside us as we continue to expand our empire."

The seeker returned his attention to the screen. "Very well," he said. "I'm glad you know your place, groundpounder. I am listening."

He could promise them anything—it didn't matter, because he wouldn't need to follow through.

In the end, he would have all the seekers fighting for him without giving them anything at all. This was only the first step.


	35. The Fifth Trial

"That will be all for this orn," Yoketron said.

Orion bowed. "Thank you, Master Yoketron."

The circuit-su master returned the gesture. This was the first time they had trained since Tesarus had fallen. Orion had come alone, of course. Prowl still hadn't regained consciousness, and even if he had, he would be in no state to train.

"You are progressing well," Yoketron said. "If you continue at this rate then by the time you're finished with the trials you'll also be a formidable warrior."

Orion wasn't so sure about that.

"Something troubles you?"

"I've trained with Ironhide as well. He says I won't ever really be a fighter. It's not so much about skill as it is about attitude. I'm not aggressive enough."

"Hmmm…" Yoketron said. "And what is your opinion on the matter?"

"I don't know," Orion said. "Part of me still doesn't _want_ to fight, though I know I have to…"

"You don't need to want something in order to do it well," Yoketron said. "Orion, you have a selfless nobility that predisposes you to care about everyone, even your enemies. That is not a weakness. A desire to avoid harming others is one of the most valuable characteristics a leader—or a fighter—can have. It means that your fighting will not be fueled by hatred, revenge, a thirst for power, or even by the lure of a challenge. Instead, you will be motivated by a pure desire to protect those weaker than yourself, no matter who they are. I believe you could fight quite determinedly in behalf of others."

Orion met his optics and nodded.

"Furthermore, a fighting spark doesn't always manifest itself through violence. You proved your willingness to fight corruption and injustice when you and your friends started that resistance movement."

"I suppose," Orion said. "And thank you. I still don't know if I'll ever be much of a warrior."

"Let me be the judge of that," Yoketron said. "And do not allow anyone, even your friends, to convince you to doubt yourself."

Orion considered that. "Isn't it important for a leader to listen to their friends and advisers, though?"

"Doubting your decisions is different from doubting yourself."

That made sense.

"Now, would you like to begin the fifth trial this orn?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Congratulations on completing the fourth so quickly, by the way."

Yes, that... "I'm... afraid I may have cheated a little." '

"Oh?" Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "How so?"

"Well… in the trial I could still feel my bond with Elita. It helped me figure out that the trial was fake."

Yoketron tilted his helm to the side. "That's interesting," he said. "I don't know if I would call it cheating, though. You didn't enter the trial knowing the bond would help you."

"It helped me with the third trial as well."

"And this troubles you? You feel as if you are not earning the right to move forward?"

Orion wasn't sure.

"Here is how I see it," Yoketron said. "Completing the trials does not prove your worthiness to be a Prime. It simply prepares you to receive the Matrix, which you are already worthy to receive. Your own personal strengths and talents are what help you complete the trials, and your bond is simply one of your strengths."

Orion looked down. "I don't know if I'll get to keep it, though."

"No one with a spark bond has ever received the Matrix," Yoketron said. "But despite what Venture said, I don't believe that the bond will break again, or that receiving the Matrix will harm either of you. In fact, if the trials thus far really are perfect preparation for receiving the Matrix, perhaps the bond will help you there as well."

Orion took a deep vent and let it out. "All right," he said. "Thank you."

"And if it _is_ cheating," Yoketron said, "Then I am the guilty party. It was my idea after all, and I did kidnap you and drag you to Simfur against your will."

Orion sat down in the center of the courtyard. "I suppose I can't argue with that," he said, smiling slightly. "So… the fifth trial?"

Yoketron nodded. "The fifth trial is Micronus's. I don't know much about this one, and I've never met Micronus personally, but I've heard he isn't the friendliest of the thirteen."

Orion nodded.

"From what I do know, this trial is about avoiding distraction, and it can be very frustrating. My main piece of advice for you is to be patient with yourself as you attempt it."

He could do that.

"Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." Orion shuttered his optics and waited, venting slowly, preparing himself for the trial to begin.

When he un-shuttered his optics again, he was standing in a completely blank room. He could see the creases where the walls met and the outline of the ceiling as thin, dark lines. The walls were a dull color that Orion figured must be gray, but somehow they hardly looked like a color at all. Everything was illuminated somehow, but there didn't appear to be any sort of light source.

"What have we here?"

Orion spun. A small, teal-colored mech sat cross-legged, floating in the air just behind him. The mech wore a cold, unimpressed look on his faceplate.

"So," he said. "You think you have what it takes to be a Prime?"

Orion wasn't sure what to say. Honestly, he still didn't feel worthy of his calling, but he knew it was Primus's will. "I hope that I do," he said.

The mech snorted. "Well, that was noncommittal. I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Orion shifted uncomfortably, not certain how to respond. He glanced over at the colorless walls.

"What are you looking at?"

"I… I apologize. Where are we, exactly?"

"Focus on the matter at hand. Would you like me to explain your objective, or would you just like to wander around until you fail?"

Yoketron had been right about Micronus being unfriendly. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Believe me, you didn't offend me," the mech said. "Are you ready for your objective?"

"Yes," Orion said.

"You will follow me," Micronus said. "Once we are out in the open, I will leave, though I will be observing. There will be a beacon off in the distance. You must reach the beacon within ten breems of starting the trial. Do not get distracted or you will run out of time. Do you understand?"

Orion nodded. It seemed fairly simple.

"Then come," The mech floated through the wall and disappeared.

Orion took a deep vent and followed him.

He was suddenly standing in an empty city. He looked around, but Micronus was nowhere to be seen. He could see the beacon, though—a bright line of blue light in the distance. It extended upward as far as he could see, and it didn't seem too far away. He tried to transform, but found that he couldn't. Oh well—he could still reach it on pede, unless it was farther away than he thought. He started off in the direction of the beacon, trying not to wonder where he was. The tall, silent buildings and empty street felt surreal but also familiar. Had he been here before?

"Orion!"

Orion stopped. Part of him knew he was in a trial, and that voice wasn't real, but he couldn't help himself.

"Wait, please, I need to talk to you."

"Megatronus," Orion turned around to see the former gladiator approaching from behind. "I can't speak with you right now, I have to get to that beacon."

"No." Megatronus said. "Hear me out. I'm so sorry for what I've done, and I want to put an end to the war. We can work out a treaty and resolve this without any more fighting."

Orion backed away. "I have to…"

Megatronus's faceplate changed. "You have to what? I came here to talk peace with you. I thought that was what you wanted, but now I see you must have been lying about that too. Fine then, if it means so little to you, I'll just go back to Kaon."

"Wait," Orion said. "Wait, I'm sorry. Don't leave—we can talk."

Megatronus looked down, then back up again, with mistrust in his optics.

Orion couldn't really fault him for that. "I'm the one who should apologize," he said. "What happened when we appeared before the Council… I can't expect you to believe me, but I was only trying to support what you were saying, and convince them to keep listening to us. I had no idea they would choose me over you. I still believe you are worthy to be a Prime."

Megatron looked down. "I have a hard time believing you, yes," he said. "But whether or not you are telling the truth, I can see that my efforts to purge the corruption from society are resulting in a lot of innocent casualties as well, and that… is not what I wanted."

Orion smiled, feeling a desperate sort of happiness. He had started to think he'd never hear those words. "We can work this out," he said. "We can stop the fighting..."

No, he couldn't. He wasn't having this conversation.

This wasn't real.

He was supposed to be moving toward the beacon.

Pit, how long had he been standing here? Nearly a breem. "I can't."

"What?" Megatronus snapped.

There was something so real about him. Orion couldn't help but think he was truly here, even though he knew it was a simulation.

"I have to go," Orion turned and ran. Megatronus called after him, demanding, accusing, pleading. He didn't give chase, though, and his voice faded to nothing as Orion continued.

Then he heard a high-pitched scream from somewhere ahead of him. He took a deep vent and tried to ignore it, but an astrosecond later, a youngling femme who looked barely more than a vorn old ran in front of him. She was pursued by a dark-colored mech wearing enforcer insignias on his shoulders. Orion knew that youngling. She was one of the ones he used to give energon treats to.

And in that instant, though he knew in the back of his processor that he was in a trial, he also knew that a youngling was in danger.

The mech grabbed her and carried her, kicking and screaming around the corner. Orion glanced up at the beacon. He still had time. Maybe this trial was about resolving these things fast enough. He wasn't just going to ignore someone in trouble. He changed directions and chased after the mech. Around the corner, there were several more enforcers, and a transport. Through the reinforced windows of the transport, Orion could see several other sparklings and younglings who he knew.

"What's going on here?" he asked as the enforcer shoved the femme inside and slammed the door shut.

"We're rounding up these urchins and taking them to the smelting pits. They're a menace to society, running around the streets, stealing and whatnot."

"What!" Orion said. "You can't do that."

"Council's orders," the mech said. "Take it up with them."

"You can't... They're just sparklings."

"They're a nuisance," the mech said. "Too many tanks to fill. They're worth more in smelted scrap metal anyway."

"Orion!" one of the younglings inside shouted. "Orion help us!" They all started shouting, pounding on the windows. He could hear the hope in their voices, alongside the desperation.

One of the enforcers shifted his hand into a gun. "I'm going to have to ask you to move along," he said.

"No!" Orion said. "I won't just let you offline innocent sparklings."

The mech glared. "I said move along."

Orion felt anger building up inside of him. "I am Optimus Prime," he said. "And I order you to open that transport and let those mechlings go."

They stared at him. The enforcer lowered his gun slightly. "We have orders from the Council. You can't just rescind that, no matter who you are."

"I said open those doors," Orion said, suddenly wishing he had weapons. "Now!"

They didn't move.

"Think about what you're doing," Orion said. "Those aren't drones—they have sparks. They could grow up to be medics, engineers, enforcers… And even if most of them won't, you can't take that chance from them. There's no cause for this."

The enforcer who seemed to be in charge snorted. "Maybe you _are_ a Prime. But you're naïve if you think you can talk us into disobeying orders from the Council."

"Maybe we should listen to him," another one of the enforcers said.

The mech in charge frowned.

"If the Council are upset at you, blame it on me," Orion said. "In fact, if you like, I will talk to them for you." He wondered if the door on that transport was locked. Could he open it and hold the enforcers off long enough for the sparklings and younglings to get away?

He kept arguing with the enforcers for a while, and then something grabbed him from behind, and he was pulled back into that featureless room where he'd started.

"That was pathetic," Micronus said. "I certainly hope that not _all_ Primes are as weak-willed as you. I said _don't get distracted!_ "

Orion looked down, feeling ashamed. He had let himself get sucked in so quickly. He had completely forgotten about the beacon.

"I apologize," he said. "It seemed so real in the moment."

"Well, if it didn't seem real, then it wouldn't be a challenge," the green mech said. "And it's no excuse. Primes must know how to focus on an objective and not let anything get in the way. You are an utter failure."

Orion looked up to meet the mech's optics and saw only icy contempt there. "I will do better next time," he said.

"Not if what you did this past time is any indication," the mech said. "Follow me. Reach the beacon this time."

He floated through the wall, and Orion followed.

This time, he was in the middle of a battlefield, with a sword in his hand. Mecha were fighting on all sides of him. There were explosions, screams, plasma fire. Orion dodged a laser shot, and it hit the mech behind him, who fell to the ground, clutching his faceplate. Orion knelt by him, feeling horrible and hoping the soldier was all right.

Then he remembered. The beacon. He needed to find the beacon. He looked around…

There it was, on a hill.

He looked down at the injured soldier once more, before forcing himself to get to his pedes and run toward the beacon.

Ahead of him, he could see Ironhide surrounded by enemies. Orion couldn't leave him there to be overwhelmed. He was almost in the same direction as the beacon anyway. It would only be a slight detour. Orion veered to the side, gripping his sword tightly.

* * *

Yoketron watched Orion thoughtfully. This was one of the trials with a specific time limit, like the first trial, so they could plan in exactly how long it was going to take. Yoketron had left enough time that Orion could repeat the trial once more.

It was about time for him to come out of it. He had hope that Orion would be able to complete it quickly. The young Prime _did_ tend to get distracted from time to time, but he could focus when it was important, so perhaps this trial wouldn't be too difficult for him.

Finally, Orion shifted and un-shuttered his optics. He didn't look up, though, just stared at the ground, frowning. From his expression, Yoketron was willing to bet it hadn't gone well… in fact, there was something beyond frustration in his student's optics.

He waited, giving the Prime a few more astroseconds to gather his thoughts. Then he spoke. "Orion?"

Orion still wouldn't look up. "I failed miserably," he said.

"Well, after you calm down a little, you may attempt it again."

"No," Orion said. "Not this orn."

That was a bad sign. "Tell me what happened?"

"I had four attempts," Orion said. "I was supposed to go to a beacon, and I wasn't supposed to let anything distract me or get in my way… but all of the distractions..." He took a deep vent. "Most of them were mecha in trouble, mecha who needed me, or sometimes mecha who I needed to talk to. Megatronus showed up to apologize and work on a peace treaty, and Alpha Trion showed up, and my friends were dying, and the sparklings and younglings in the city were going to be taken to the smelting pits… and I know it was just a simulation, but every time a distraction would appear, I would think for a few breems that it was real before I remembered…"

Master Yoketron could hear the distress in Orion's voice. He needed to think of a way to calm his student down so the young mech could try again. He wondered if there was some sort of trick to this trial—some way to get around it. Probably not. Ignoring distractions was a valuable skill to develop.

"I'm not going to be able to finish that trial."

"Be calm, Orion," Yoketron said. "I can tell this experience has troubled you. You do not need to attempt it again this orn if you do not want to."

Orion took a deep vent and let it out slowly. He shuttered his optics, and then finally looked up.

Yoketron had not expected to see defiance in his gaze.

"I will not complete the trial," he said. "I will not even attempt it again."

Yoketron waited for silence to fall before responding calmly to Orion's declaration. "Will you tell me why?"

It was Orion's turn to look surprised. He must have expected Yoketron to argue with him. Yoketron _was_ a little worried, but arguing wouldn't help. In order to convince Orion to change his mind, Yoketron would need to know why he'd made this decision.

"Orion?"

"The point of the trial was to ignore mecha who needed me, so that I could reach an inconsequential goal," Orion said. "I do not like what that teaches. I will _not_ train myself to leave my friends to die so that I can reach a beacon. I know it's only a simulation, but it still is not right."

Yoketron leaned back. He honestly couldn't disagree with the mechling.

"Just before I went into the trial, you told me my greatest strength is my determination to help those who need me. And you told me not to let anyone convince me to doubt myself. I cannot complete a trial that I don't agree with."

Yoketron nodded. "That is understandable, and I can see how it would make you angry. I believe I would feel the same way."

Orion looked down.

"I may be your teacher, and I may have been assigned to guide you through the trials, but I am not an expert on them." Yoketron said. "My suggestion is that you calm down and then go talk to Alpha Trion about this." That would give Trion something to think about.

Orion looked down.

"What?"

"I doubt he will be able to convince me to finish the trial either."

That would depend on Alpha Trion. If there was some valid purpose to this trial, the old archivist had the best chance of explaining it to Orion. If there wasn't, perhaps they could work something else out. "It was only a suggestion. Now, would you like to be finished training for the orn, or would you like to continue for another joor? I will not ask you to attempt the trial again unless you wish to."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out. "I think…" he said. "Maybe you're right. I should go and talk to Alpha Trion about this. If you'll permit me to leave, that is."

"Of course," Yoketron said. "I'm sure Landquake will be happy to take you to the Hall of Records."

"Thank you, Master Yoketron."

Orion left. Yoketron waited a few astroseconds, deliberating. A large part of him wanted to let Orion show up unannounced. He could just imagine the look on Alpha Trion's faceplate when Orion turned up and declared he wasn't going to complete the primal trials. But, as much as he liked that thought, he knew the conversation between the two of them really needed to go well. He commed Alpha Trion.

It took the old librarian almost a breem to respond.

" _I hope this is some sort of emergency,"_ Trion said.

" _Optimus Prime is coming to visit you,"_ Yoketron replied. _"He just made his first attempt on the fifth trial, and it didn't go so well. He's upset about it—I believe he's decided that it's morally wrong and he has refused to complete it. I hope you can provide him with some convincing explanation that will prompt him to reconsider."_

" _What!"_ Alpha Trion said. _"Yoketron…"_

" _Good luck."_ Yoketron cut the comm and went to sit in the center of the courtyard and meditate. Time was running shorter and shorter. He could feel it now, like a reverse echo. Something was going to happen soon that would change the game. He could only hope his students were ready when it did.

* * *

Alpha Trion looked up from his desk when Orion walked into his office. "Optimus Prime," he said. "What a pleasant surprise. Come, sit down."

Orion hesitated.

"Sit," Alpha Trion said. "It has been a while since we spoke. I trust all is going well?"

Orion met his mentor's brilliant white optics. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure. If Trion ordered him to continue the trial, he might just do it. He took a deep vent and sat.

"How are the trials progressing?"

"I have made it to the fifth one," Orion said. "But…"

Trion raised an optic ridge. "But?"

"I do not agree with it."

He waited for the shock, the disapproval, the demands. But as with Yoketron, Alpha Trion only stared thoughtfully at him. "You do not think it is important to learn how to focus on a goal and ignore distractions?"

"That is not what I said," Orion said. "I don't know if the distractions in the trial are the same for everyone, but for me they are mecha in trouble—mecha who need my help. And I do not agree with the message that I should turn my back on them so I can reach some arbitrary goal."

"Ah," Alpha Trion said. "That makes sense. And I suppose Micronus's personality doesn't help either."

Alpha Trion didn't seem particularly concerned. He must not understand. "I will not complete this trial," Orion said. "Whether or not it's fake doesn't matter. What matters is the choices I have to make. I will not choose to ignore mecha who need me."

Alpha Trion leaned forward, looking more serious now. "Optimus, you must learn to make difficult decisions for the sake of the greater good. You must sometimes even make them when you don't understand why they are important."

Orion shook his helm. "I won't do something morally wrong for the sake of the greater good. That's what Megatron is doing. That's why we're having this war."

"You must complete the trials, Optimus."

"But I will never choose to abandon anyone if there's something I can do to save them."

Alpha Trion frowned.

"Perhaps this trial is acceptable to others, depending on what distracts them most, but for me it is impossible. Maybe it's just a fluke in the system or maybe Micronus didn't understand…"

"No," Alpha Trion said. " _You_ do not understand. Micronus may have been the designer of the trial, but all of us helped him, and all of us approved it. We knew exactly what we were doing."

"You… purposefully made the trial this way?"

"Yes. We did. You _will_ have to make difficult decisions. You will _have_ to let some die in order to save others. You will need to _trust_ your goals and the things that you know you need to accomplish, even when you don't understand them."

"But…"

"Making decisions like that is part of your office."

"I refuse to believe that," Orion said calmly.

"There is not always a right choice, and even when there is it's not always easy to see which choice is right."

"But it's not hard to _feel_ which choice is right."

"Feelings are valuable and important, but not infallible," Alpha Trion snapped. "Do you think your opponent is making decisions based on logic? Somewhere in his spark, he probably believes he is doing good. This _feels_ right to him."

Orion shook his helm.

"You cannot _always_ trust your feelings. Usually, but not always. And you cannot save everyone. You ought to know that by now. How many have already died in this war?"

The numbers flashed through Orion's processor and he looked down.

"We could have prevented it, you know," Alpha Trion said. " _I_ could have prevented it. I brought Yoketron here to meet you more than a vorn ago, remember? I asked him to start training you then and he refused, claiming he didn't feel like you were ready. I could have gone after him, hunted him down, convinced him to change his mind. If he had started training you one vorn ago, it's quite possible none of this would have happened. Megatronus's revolution would never have gotten off the ground—the Council might have collapsed, but we would have had a better chance trying to salvage it. And that isn't the only time I could have interfered. I could have stopped you when you began your resistance movement. I could have warned you not to bring that gladiator to Iacon. I knew this would happen, Orion, and I _let_ it happen. Shortly after Yoketron's refusal—while I was still thinking of hunting him down and bringing him back—I saw something new in the Covenant. That time when I read, I saw it from an angle I had never considered before, and I understood that for whatever reason, letting the war happen was part of my destiny. It was necessary, and if I made any further attempts to prevent it, I would be going against Primus's wishes."

Silence fell for a moment.

Orion couldn't believe this.

"I could have prevented this war," Alpha Trion repeated in a whisper. "I could have stopped it, but I didn't. Do you think _that_ felt like the right choice? Do you think it felt like the morally correct thing to do? Do you think it was easy? Do you think I never second guessed myself?"

"Why?" Orion said.

"Because I trust Primus," Alpha Trion said. "Because I trust him and his decisions." He seemed calm again, though there was still vulnerability in his expression. "I do not always know why, and sometimes it is hard. This is not a trial. This is real sparks extinguished because I ignored mecha who needed me in order to focus on a goal that I still do not fully understand."

Orion didn't want to believe it. His wise, honorable mentor could not have intentionally allowed the war to start.

"You are a young idealist," Alpha Trion said. "You do not understand yet, and if you are going to be angry with me about this, then I will accept that. If you do not agree with Micronus's trial, I will accept that as well. No one can force you to complete it. But please, my dear friend and apprentice, trust me when I tell you this is necessary. If you cannot complete the trials in time, this world will die."

Orion met his mentor's optics one more time and saw a deep, helpless fear in them. He looked away again, but he knew that as much as he hated it—as much as he disagreed with the trial—he had to continue. He smiled slightly, realizing something.

"What?"

"Master Yoketron sent me to talk to you. He must have known it would end this way... I will continue with the trials."

Alpha Trion vented a sigh. "Thank you. Forgive me, Orion, for…" he trailed off.

"The war?" Orion said. "I… If I were in your place, I think I would have done everything in my power to prevent it. I have a hard time believing that Primus would want us to fight each other… But I am not angry with you."

Alpha Trion wouldn't meet his optics. They sat in silence for almost a breem. Then Orion stood. "Thank you, for all you have taught me." He turned to leave, but Alpha Trion got up as well and caught him before he reached the door, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

"The world doesn't deserve you, mechling" he said, then released him and backed away again. Orion smiled at him, then left. He would have liked to stay and talk. It had been too long since he'd had a good conversation with Alpha Trion. But he had a lot to do back at Mirage's tower, so he left. As it was, he would get back to the tower about half a joor before he had expected to, which would be nice. Maybe this orn he'd actually be able to get everything done that he needed to and have some time to spend with Elita. He left the Hall of Records, trying not to feel sad as he walked down the stairs. He wished he could stay a little longer and maybe check out a datapad or two.

Landquake was waiting for him. "Back to the tower?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Orion said, as he stepped inside.

He had a lot to think about on the way back to Mirage's tower. The fact that Alpha Trion could have prevented the war was a terrible revelation. But Orion trusted his mentor, and he had seen the real pain and remorse on Alpha Trion's faceplate when he'd made that admission. Orion wondered if he had told anyone else, even the other Primes. It was possible that he hadn't. It made Orion think though. If he had known that his actions would start this war, then would he still have started the resistance movement? Would he still have freed Megatronus from the gladiator pits if he had known what would happen because of it? Something had needed to be done about the injustice in society. What if the only two choices were war and corruption?

Orion wanted to believe there was another way. And perhaps—if things had been different—he would have found it. But unless Megatron started listening to reason, it was now too late to stop this war. It was also far too late for Orion to turn down his calling. As much as he hated the thought, he'd need to complete that trial, and all the trials after it.

But he promised himself that he wouldn't let it change him. He would always be willing to help those who needed it, whether or not it distracted from his overall goal. Even if it caused problems for him in the long run, he couldn't let himself forget how important even one life was.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Sometimes I feel like Alpha Trion comes off as too cold and unhelpful when I write him. He's really just stressed and conflicted. I don't necessarily think his decision to let the war start was right, but hopefully it adds a little depth to his character to know he was aware of it, and feels guilty about it.

2\. Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm always happy to hear people's thoughts on the story.


	36. Work to Do

Coming online took a very long time. Prowl's processor activated first, but it was sluggish and running on low power. He tried to figure out what had happened while he waited for everything else to power up, but thinking was exhausting.

Slowly, systems diagnostics started to pop up in his processor. He was coming out of stasis. Medical stasis. Something had happened to him.

His energon tanks came online, and he discovered that his lethargy wasn't because he was out of fuel.

Then his pain grid woke up. His spark chamber felt like it had been yanked out and used as a lobbing ball.

Yes—something had definitely happened to him.

But what? He accessed memory files, searching for the most recent ones. He had followed Mainspring into Jazz's office. Mainspring had said there was something there Prowl needed to see. Red Alert had commed him and asked him if he was all right.

And then something had hit him from behind.

Mainspring? Had Mainspring attacked him? He could think of no other explanation and he _had_ left his back exposed to the mech. He hadn't heard any weapons powering up, so Mainspring must have stabbed him. The pain was concentrated right over his spark, which made sense. Spark damage would explain why he still couldn't even online his optics—why even _thinking_ was so difficult.

But thinking was also important at the moment. Operating under the assumption that Mainspring had tried to kill him, they were in a lot of trouble. Mainspring had very high security clearance—the only Autobot secret he _didn't_ know was that Orion and Elita were bonded.

Prowl would have to re-think many of his strategies…

But if Mainspring was a traitor, why had the Decepticons lost in Slaughter City? Prowl's strategy had only worked because the Decepticons hadn't realized what he was doing. Mainspring had been the one to organize the scouting trips to find defensible locations in Slaughter City.

How could he be a traitor?

If Mainspring wasn't a traitor, did that mean there'd been someone else in Jazz's office?

Finally, Prowl's optics and audios came online. He seemed to be lying face down on something—probably a medical berth.

His doorwings were picking up the sound of another engine in the room, so he wasn't alone.

He suddenly realized he didn't know if he was safe or not. He tried to force himself online more quickly, but his systems weren't responding properly. He lifted his helm slightly, and was rewarded by a spike of pain in his back and a warning in his processor informing him that his motor functions were only at 8%.

"What are you doing?"

That was Ratchet's voice.

Prowl tried to raise his helm again, and activated his voice box. "Ratchet…?"

"Hush! Don't talk or try to move, you could kill yourself."

"Mainspring… is he all right?"

"What?" Ratchet said.

"I assume he's not really a traitor," Prowl muttered.

"I said be quiet," Ratchet told him. "There was a mechformer impersonating him. Stabbed you in the spark chamber—I said _don't_ try to move, you idiot!"

Prowl heard Ratchet approach the berth, and felt a light pressure on his back. He gasped as the pain intensified, but then it backed off, until the only thing that hurt was his spark itself—a dull, draining ache that somehow went deeper than physical pain.

"You suffered severe spark damage," Ratchet explained. "If you move too much you could offline. I think you'll make a full recovery, but you'll need to stay on this berth for several more decaorns at _least_."

Prowl shuttered his optics. "I can't. I have work to do."

Ratchet snorted. "I don't think so. I'm going to make sure all of your systems booted up properly, and then you are going to power down again."

"How long was I unconscious?"

"It's been a decaorn."

Prowl checked his internal timepiece to confirm that. He would be so far behind on everything… and what if there was a battle? He needed to be ready in case the Decepticons attacked. "You should have woken me up earlier. What if there was a battle?"

"I couldn't have woken you up earlier without offlining you." Ratchet snapped.

"Has Optimus returned?"

"Yes."

That was a relief. "Has there been any significant Decepticon activity since I was last online?"

Ratchet was silent.

"What?"

"We can discuss that next time you wake up."

"Wait," Prowl said, and tried to lift his helm again, but he was too weak. "What happened?"

"You need rest," Ratchet said. "Not more things to worry about."

"I can't rest until I know," Prowl said.

"I will put you back into stasis if you don't shut up and lie still," Ratchet said, and Prowl could feel the medic scanning his helm. "I think everything's working normally, thank Primus…"

Trying to move had sapped what little energy Prowl had. He wanted to insist Ratchet tell him what had happened, but he could already feel himself shutting down again. And though the pain wasn't too bad anymore, he couldn't fight the exhaustion.

* * *

"Hey, mech," Jazz said.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Impactor seemed too large for Jazz's office. It wasn't just his size, either. There was something very present and dangerous about him that made him seem bigger than he was.

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I just wanted ta officially thank ya for what ya did for us in Tesarus."

Impactor crossed his arms.

"I know ya lost some mecha, so I wanted ta offer my condolences too."

"It's a war," Impactor said. "Sparks are cheap."

Jazz shook his helm. "I think in some ways, they're even more valuable in a war, ya know..."

Impactor nodded. "That's fair. Look, you don't have to call me in to thank me every time we go on a mission—it'll get old real fast. I told you the Autobots have my loyalty. My friends and I are at your disposal, so long as you need us."

Jazz nodded. "Well, I don't want ya ta feel like we don't appreciate ya. We wouldn't have an army anymore if it weren't for your mecha."

Impactor smiled grimly. "I guess that's true."

"Hey, did ya get my message last orn?"

"About coming up with a name for my unit? We're still working on it."

"All right," Jazz said. "But we gotta have a name for ya and I don't wanna give ya some random string of digits or whatever. Let me know as soon as ya come up with something."

"My mechs have been tossing around a few ideas," Impactor said. "Not sure they're appropriate enough for your high class command element."

Jazz shrugged. "Yeah. I guess that limits the options a little."

"We'll come up with something eventually." Impactor said. "Is that all?"

"Yeah. Let me know if ya need anything."

The big mech nodded, then got up and left Jazz's office. Jazz leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. He was itching to get back out in the field, but he was supposed to stay here.

In case the Decepticons attacked again and they needed him to help run the battle.

He was tempted to disappear for a decaorn or two so he could avoid that possibility. He didn't want to be in charge ever again. He didn't want to watch the death toll go up and try to have twenty conversations at once and make so many mistakes…

He worked better on his own.

Jazz's comm. beeped and he sighed and answered it. _"Yes, Red Alert?"_

" _There's a femme here insisting she wants to talk to you."_

" _A femme?"_

" _Yes. I've seen her before. She was friends with Soundwave… her designation is Breeze, I think."_

" _Oh…"_ Jazz said. _"Well, did ya let her in?"_

" _I don't think we can trust her. She could be affiliated with the Decepticons."_

" _I highly doubt that. Let her in and send her ta my office. I'll talk ta her."_

" _After what happened with Makeshift…"_

" _Look, I'm not gonna turn my back on her so she can stab me. If she's not really Breeze, then I'll be able ta tell pretty quick. Besides, she might have something important ta say."_ He hoped Blaster was all right. But since he wasn't even sure if she knew his mecha were keeping an optic on them… it could be something else. Jazz organized his desk a little, dumping everything that might have sensitive information on it into a drawer. Then he commed the mech who was watching over Breeze and the others in Praxus, to confirm that she had left, because if she was still there, that would be a big warning sign.

He checked his internal timepiece as he waited for an answer. The ornly meeting was in fifteen breems but he had time for a short conversation. Hopefully, she didn't have a whole lot to say. While an excuse to miss the meeting would be kind of nice, he had important things to bring up.

When Breeze came into the open doorway, Jazz let her in and gestured for her to sit across the desk from him. She entered, but stayed standing, frowning at him.

"Everything okay?" Jazz said. "Is the mechling safe?"

"He's fine." Breeze crossed her arms. "As I'm sure you know, since you've been spying on us."

Makeshift had known that they were keeping watch over some mecha in Praxus, and he might even know their designations. But Jazz had used video feeds to study the way Makeshift moved, and this femme was definitely not holding herself like Makeshift. "Ya know I wouldn't, if ya weren't in danger. Soundwave knows about Blaster."

"Soundwave would never do anything to hurt him," Breeze said. "Or Keepsake or Cam. Or me."

Definitely Breeze. She was so convinced Soundwave was a good mech. And she might be right, at the moment. But mecha changed, especially when they put themselves in the kind of situation Soundwave had put himself into.

"And that's not why I'm here," Breeze said.

"Okay," Jazz said. "Why are ya here?"

"Wheeljack's gone missing," Breeze said.

Jazz had heard about that.

"And I think you know why." Breeze said calmly. "If you want to convince me that the Autobots are good, then maybe you shouldn't hunt down my psychiatric patients and tell them where to find the mecha they're obsessed with killing."

"Sorry about that," Jazz said.

"Sorry about that?" Breeze repeated. "What possible reason would you have for telling him? Did you _want_ him to go after Shockwave?"

"No," Jazz said. "I just needed ta ask him some questions about Shockwave's research."

"You have other scientists, don't you?" Breeze said. "What about Perceptor? Why did you need Wheeljack? You should have left him out of it. He is not mentally stable, and now he's going to be dead before he ever has a chance to finish healing."

"Yeah… I could have handled that better…"

"You don't sound very concerned," she said quietly.

"I'll look for him," Jazz said.

"Are you telling the truth?"

Jazz had a hard time meeting her gaze even with his visor. "Femme, I can't explain the whole situation to you, but Wheeljack was the only one who could really answer my questions."

"What's done is done," she said sounding sorrowful. "Are you telling the truth about going after him? Or are you just trying to appease me?"

He looked down. He didn't want Wheeljack dead, but he had other things to deal with…

No. Orion had made him promise to care. He couldn't just blow her off, or ignore this problem. He took in a deep vent. "I'm not gonna lie and say it's my top priority right now. Ya wouldn't believe how busy I am, but I _do_ promise I'll try ta get him back. I can't undo what he knows, though, so I can't promise he won't keep trying ta offline Shockwave."

Breeze sighed. "Okay."

"Also, there's something ya should know," Jazz said, suddenly worried. "I know ya think Soundwave's still good and all, but please don't show up at the Decepticon base of operations like ya showed up here. I have _been_ there and I can tell ya they don't treat walk-ins very well."

From her expression, he knew she believed him. After all, she _had_ met Megatron, back when they'd been running this thing out of Perceptor's house… she'd showed up right after they had to leave too.

"All right," she said. "But Keepsake and Cam and Blaster don't want to get involved in this war. Can you promise me you'll leave us alone?"

"That's not my decision," Jazz said. 'But I can try."

She looked down. "I guess that's all I can ask… I'm actually surprised that you even agreed to talk to me, since we were never friends."

More things to be guilty about. "I try not ta live in the past," he said.

Her expression told him she wasn't impressed and still didn't like him very much. Well, you couldn't win everyone over.

"I have ta get ta a meeting in about ten breems," Jazz said.

"I'll go then," Breeze said, then sighed. "Thanks."

She left and Jazz sat back in his chair. Sometimes he felt like he was still a criminal—just a different kind of criminal. Now he fought for idealists instead of crimelords which was a serious step up, but he still caused a lot of trouble for mecha. At least he was holding onto his resolve never to kill anyone again. But he wasn't sure how long that was going to last. There had already been a lot of killing on both sides of this conflict.

And of course, he _had_ killed mecha, just not directly. Thousands of mecha in Tesarus had offlined or been taken as Decepticon prisoners because he had no idea what he was doing.

Now wasn't the time for regrets, though. There was too much to do. So he took a deep vent and got up. He had ten breems. He'd feel better after some energon and a friendly conversation with whoever was in the main room.

"Welcome to our ornly meeting," Orion said. "Before anything else, Elita has something she would like to bring up." He looked to her and she stood.

* * *

"I know I've brought it up in previous meetings, but there are several cities that haven't been willing to work or even communicate with us. One of those cities is Vos. This is unfortunate, as you know, because it would be nice to have the seekers on our side... But we just found out they aren't as neutral as we thought they were."

"What does that mean?" Ironhide said.

"Somehow, Megatron's opened up correspondence with Vos." Elita explained. "We don't know yet if they're working out an alliance, or a trade agreement, but the rumors have been confirmed..."

"They're talking ta Megatron now, but still not ta us?" Jazz said

"Exactly," Elita replied

The room fell into tense silence. Orion figured it was time to say something. "We do not know what their intentions are, or how Megatron convinced them to start corresponding with him. But I can't imagine them allying themselves with the Decepticons."

"It doesn't make sense," Jazz said. "Seekers like ta think of themselves as better than us, right? So why would they talk ta the slave gladiator, and not the Prime?"

"Maybe he's offered them something?" Mainspring suggested.

"The question is what do we do about it?" Ironhide said. "Because this doesn't sound like something we should just ignore."

Silence again.

"We could offer them something?" Chromia said. "Not that we have much to offer. What would Megatron have to offer?"

"World domination, maybe," Moonracer said. "I don't know if that would be appealing to them, though."

"If Vos sides with Megatron, we are doomed," Red Alert said. "We can't let that happen."

Orion nodded. If the seekers joined Megatron's army, that would make things very difficult. The chances of the Autobots losing would increase dramatically. But what could they do? "For now," he said. "Continue trying to open communications with Vos."

"Are they just talking ta the 'Cons, or are they sending mecha back and forth?" Jazz said.

"Reports indicate they're still just talking," Elita said.

"What if we offered ta actually send someone," Jazz said. "Have we tried that?"

"I guess we could try," Elita said. "But I doubt they'd agree to it."

"Could we just show up and demand to see them?" Ironhide suggested.

"No," Elita said. "The seekers are very particular about who visits their city. If you don't have permission, they just arrest you or kick you out."

"We don't want to offend them," Orion said. "That would be counterproductive."

"Aside from Megatron and Vos," Elita said. "Our relationship with many other city-states has been damaged because of what happened in Tesarus, but no one's cut us off. Oh, and the Iacon Council insists we should try to reclaim Tesarus."

Ironhide snorted. "Right. And while we're at it, let's storm Kaon too."

"That's all I have to report," Elita looked at Orion, who nodded, and moved on to Chromia.

"Recruitment's up," Chromia said. "Still going strong, but we're pretty sure Decepticon recruitment is up as well. Megatron's brutality is scaring some and inspiring others. And there are still rumors circulating about Orion being in league with the Council. Whatever."

She continued, reading off some numbers related to current resources and funds. After she was done, Orion turned the time over to Ironhide, then Red Alert.

"Well," Red Alert said. "Plans for the new base are going well. We'll be finished with the initial blueprints in a few more orns, thanks to that architect Mainspring found. I still don't trust him, but he's been very useful. Until then, we have to be more careful about who comes and goes here. Anyone who leaves and comes back could be Makeshift in disguise. We already have temporary security measures in place, but Perceptor and Ratchet are working on a permanent solution so we can track your life signals securely, and we'll know for sure if Makeshift is trying to impersonate you, because we'll also be tracking your location."

"And I'll also know if you're injured or offline," Ratchet said. "It should be useful for me, especially since some of us are foolish enough to insist on taking part in battles," he glared at Ironhide.

"I'm not sitting back and letting my mechs put their lives on the line without me." Ironhide said. "That's not going to change, medic."

Ratchet made as if to retort, but Orion put a hand on Ironhide's shoulder and made optic contact with Ratchet. "That's enough."

The medic huffed.

"Ratchet, how is Prowl doing?"

"He came online for a few breems this orn," Ratchet said. "All of his systems are functioning properly, except for his spark, of course, which is still badly damaged. I believe he'll make a full recovery, but it will be a while before he's ready to go back to work."

"Thank you," Orion said. From what he'd heard, Prowl's injuries would have killed him if Ratchet hadn't gotten there so quickly. Orion turned to meet Jazz's optics. "Were you able to find out any more about Makeshift?"

"Yeah," Jazz said, and glanced at Mainspring before speaking. "His cover story was good, cuz he's had it for vorns, and he actually _did_ roll with a circus for a while. But when we looked closer it turns out he was working for some crime organization on the side—probably Quantum since Quantum's allied with the Decepticons."

"I'm sorry I wasn't more careful," Mainspring said. "I will learn from my mistake."

Orion nodded, hoping that Mainspring didn't feel too bad about it.

The meeting continued. It seemed like every orn there was so much news and so much to do and think about. Orion had an unreasonable amount of work to do, and then he also needed to go meet with Master Yoketron. He had attempted the fifth trial several more times, but without much luck. He just couldn't commit to completing it the way he'd been able to commit to the others.

Finally, after they'd gone all the way around the table, Orion closed the meeting. He asked Red Alert to stay behind, though. Something had been brought to his attention and he needed to discuss it privately with the head of security.

Red Alert watched everyone leave with a slightly nervous look on his faceplate, and then turned to face Orion.

"Red Alert." Orion tried to sound encouraging. "I wanted to thank you for all of the good work you've been doing."

Red Alert nodded silently.

"We couldn't do it without you. Without you, Prowl would be offline, and probably Mainspring as well. And who knows what else might have slipped past the building's defenses… you're irreplaceable."

Red Alert was looking at him like he knew there was a 'but' coming.

"In fact," Orion said. "You are _too_ irreplaceable. Red Alert, you need to train someone to do your job, in case something happens to you."

Red Alert sighed.

"I know you have a lot of mecha who answer to you, but you don't have anyone directly under you, do you?"

"No."

"Not only is that dangerous—it must be exhausting to run the entire department by yourself."

"I know it's a problem," Red Alert said. "But I can't bring myself to trust anyone, especially not after what happened with Makeshift…"

Orion wasn't sure what to tell him.

"And no one can stand to work with me anyway," Red Alert said.

Well…

"So I don't know what to do."

"Is there _anyone_ you trust?"

"You," Red Alert said. "You, Ironhide, Elita, probably Chromia… and I think that's it. I used to trust Mainspring, but even though he wasn't actually a traitor, I thought he was for a breem, and now I can't trust him anymore."

"Red Alert?"

"And I trusted Soundwave too, and look where that got us. So I don't even trust my own ability to determine who we can and can't trust. Almost everyone is probably loyal, but you don't know where the traitor is, usually, until it's too late."

"Red Alert."

"What?"

"You are right," Orion said. "It will be dangerous for you to put someone else in a position of power in your department. And you might not be able to trust them completely. But is it really more dangerous than leaving things the way they are? If something were to happen to you, we would have to blindly appoint a new mech or femme to your position."

Red Alert tensed.

"Please try to find someone."

"Okay," Red Alert said. "I'll try."

"I am confident you can do it. And I trust you."

"Thank you, Prime."

"You can go if you want. Thank you for talking to me." Orion smiled and Red Alert nodded and left.

Orion held back for a breem or so, thinking. Now he just had to convince Prowl to put a department together. That might be even more difficult.

Suddenly, he realized Red Alert had called him "Prime" and it hadn't bothered him at all. He hadn't even noticed. He was getting used to the title.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

* * *

I waited in the hall. We were going to leave as soon as Megatron and Starscream came back from visiting the mines. Vos had finally accepted our request to meet with them in person. The last time I'd been to Vos had been with Crescent. That was so far in the past that it seemed like another life. Another mech, not me. A sparkling.

Thundercracker glanced at me, then looked away again. He was standing across from me in the hall, waiting as well. He was different too. We hadn't talked at all since he and his trine had joined the Decepticons. We'd almost been avoiding each other.

We stood in silence for a breem.

Two breems.

Three.

"Hey," he said. _Of all mecha, I wouldn't expect Soundwave to have joined the Decepticons._

I nodded.

"Been a while."

"Yes."

 _Mecha change, I guess. I mean,_ I'm _here, even if it's just because of my trine. Primus, I really thought Starscream would change his mind, but we're still stuck here. I don't like how secretive he's being. He's got some sort of plan for recruiting Vos, but he won't explain it to me. And Megatron's about as messed up as they come. None of this is good. There's going to be more fighting, and this could turn into an all-out war… surely Soundwave can see that as well as I can…_ "You know… you probably should have walked away from this one too." _Like he did back in school… but of course, this is different. That was mechling stuff. This is more complicated than that._

"I can't," I said.

Thundercracker nodded, thinking about Starscream and Skywarp and how he had to stick with them and try to keep them out of trouble. "Me either. Kinda rusts, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"Real mecha are going to die this time, though. They've _been_ dying."

"They were dying long befo-ore the war started."

 _Searchlight… of course…_ Thundercracker nodded. "True." He took in a deep vent and sighed it out. But before he could say anything else, Megatron came around the corner, followed by Starscream and Skywarp. Megatron was unhappy about the situation in the mines. They were still producing enough energon to support the Decepticons, but they were producing less than they should have been, even though they had enough miners.

Thundercracker nodded deferentially as Megatron walked past, though he felt no loyalty—only fear and disgust. We would have to be careful about him. Starscream and Skywarp were the only reason he was here. If and when Starscream decided to try and take over, Thundercracker would surely back him up.

And I would have to stop him.


	37. The Bigger Picture

Prowl's internal timepiece told him the ornly meeting would start soon. He was sick of lying here on this berth, but he knew he wouldn't be able to talk Ratchet into letting him go. It had been more than a decaorn since he'd woken up, but the medic still wouldn't let him leave—insisting that he didn't trust Prowl to get enough rest without supervision.

Prowl had gotten plenty of rest.

He checked his timepiece again, then glanced at Ratchet who sat at his desk, reading a datapad—for the time being, at least. After a few breems, as Prowl had hoped, Ratchet got up, stretched, then walked to the door.

Prowl watched him go, then waited patiently until it was time for the meeting to start and he was certain that Ratchet wouldn't come back unexpectedly.

Then slowly, carefully, Prowl pushed himself to a sitting position. Agony flared up in his back and his spark, but it wasn't as bad as the last time he'd tried to get up. He was definitely getting better.

He waited a few astroseconds before he stood, venting slowly and evenly, then got to his pedes and crossed Ratchet's office. He'd watched the medic put in the door code more than enough times to commit it to memory. In moments, he was out in the hall, headed toward his own office.

Walking didn't hurt as much as he'd expected it to, which was a nice surprise, and more evidence that Ratchet really should have released him already.

Prowl had just barely reached his office door when Ratchet commed him on an internal frequency.

" _What are you doing?"_

Prowl scowled as he opened the door. _"What do you mean?"_

" _Red Alert says you left my office. I didn't say you could—"_

" _I don't care,"_ Prowl said. _"I'm fine. I'm not going to do anything strenuous, and I don't want to walk all the way back. What difference is there between sitting in your office and sitting in mine?"_

" _But you're—"_

Prowl cut the comm. and carefully lowered himself into his chair. His datapads were exactly the way he had left them two decaorns before. That felt wrong, after everything that had happened. It was like this room had somehow been recharging, and had missed the assassination attempt and the fall of Tesarus.

He shook his helm slightly. He didn't have time to ponder the state of his office. He had so much to catch up on…

His comm. had been working, so he'd been able to get _some_ things done in Ratchet's office, but he had other projects he needed his datapads for.

He had to make sure what had happened in Tesarus never _ever_ happened again. The Autobots had lost too much there, and they couldn't afford any more losses.

He reached for a datapad too quickly and had to stop for a moment, leaning heavily against the desk while he waited for the pain to fade a little. Then he dragged the datapad toward him and turned it on.

He'd probably get tired and have to stop and rest before too long, but first he needed to find something Mainspring had sent him quartexes ago—back when they'd just been starting out.

This was his fault.

It was his fault that the Decepticons had taken Tesarus so easily. He had known he needed to put together his department, but he hadn't done it and only now—after it was already too late—was he about to start working on it.

He found the list of candidates, but a sudden realization drew his thoughts away from his task, and he stared at the glowing screen without even reading any of the designations on it.

Even if he put his department together now… would it really make a difference in the future? He had seen the numbers after the Tesarus battle. Was there any conceivable way for the Autobots to win the war with their current forces? Their current recruitment tactics? Their current strategy…?

He glanced over at the datapad that had all of his plans and notes for how to react when the Decepticons attacked a city.

But he couldn't plan for everything.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't plan for everything. No one could, and now that they didn't have any spies among the Decepticon command element, their current strategy _required_ them to plan for everything.

Frag it.

They were going to lose the war.

Even if Tesarus hadn't happened, _something_ like it would have. One of Megatron's plans would have _eventually_ slipped through the net and ruined everything. How could Prowl have been so blind? He'd been so focused on perfecting his plans that the bigger picture—the real advantage the Decepticons had over them—had eluded him.

Pit.

He took in a deep vent and got back to his pedes once again, groaning as his spark screamed in protest.

Ratchet wasn't going to be pleased about Prowl coming to the meeting, but this really couldn't wait until next orn.

* * *

"Still haven't been able to…" Elita trailed off as the door to the meeting room slid open and Prowl stumbled in.

Orion got to his pedes. "Prowl? Is everything all right—"

"What the fragging pit are you doing here?" Ratchet leaped up as well. "I can't believe—"

"I figured it out." Prowl reached the table and set his hands palm-down on the surface. "I figured it out." He leaned forward, bowing his helm for a moment.

"You look like you need a chair," Mainspring started to stand up, but Prowl waved him off.

"You shouldn't be here!" Ratchet shouted. "What are you doing, _trying_ to kill yourself?"

Prowl met Orion's optics and Orion could see in his expression that this was important.

"You are going _right_ back—"

"Ratchet, wait," Orion said. "Prowl, what is it?"

"The Decepticon advantage," Prowl said in a strained voice. "The reason they're winning. It's not their numbers, it's something else."

The room was silent now, as everyone listened intently.

Prowl took a few shallow, painful-sounding vents before continuing. "It's so stupid," he said. "And we used to have them, but somehow… Primus, we're all just spinning our wheels now."

"Well, what the frag is it?" Chromia demanded. "Spit it out already."

"Goals," Prowl said. "Plans. Initiative."

They stared at him.

"Excuse me," Chromia said. "Maybe you've been lying on a medberth since Tesarus, but the rest of us have been trying to manage resources, sway the public in our favor, and—"

"To what end?" Prowl demanded. "Think about it. Why did Tesarus happen?"

"Isn't it because _you_ didn't have a department?"

Shocked silence fell for an astrosecond, and then Prowl's doorwings lowered in shame. "Yes," he said quietly. "Because I didn't have a department, but there's more to it than that. Megatron realized why he lost the first battle, and he took action to prevent that from happening again. He wanted me offline so he sent an assassin after me. That's how he thinks. He sees a problem, and _acts_ to fix it. But we've just been reacting. This whole army is reactionary—Orion didn't even consider it until the Council forced him to organize it. We never attack first—never pick the battlefield. We just try to prepare for whatever Megatron does, but we _can't_ keep doing that."

Orion looked down. "Prowl, I still do not think attacking Megatron would be—"

"Why not?" Prowl demanded. "Why the pit not? Your organization went after the Council, didn't it? You were trying to stop them, weren't you? You made plans, you moved against them. But you won't move against a mech who has slaughtered hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians. Why? Because you were friends once?"

It was different. Moving against the Council had never involved violence.

"The Decepticons have Quantum and the Institute, and three major energon mining cities," Prowl said. "They have those resources because they don't sit around and wait for someone _else_ to do something. We don't have to fight the way they do. We don't have to attack them with our soldiers, but by the _Allspark,_ we have to do _something_ to stop them before it's too late!"

Prowl fell silent, and Orion looked up to see him leaning heavily on the table, trembling.

"Prowl?"

"Our forces aren't powerful enough to deter Megatron," Prowl continued quietly. "Threatening to show up when he attacks a city-state isn't going to stop him because he's not scared of us. And the more he takes, the stronger he becomes. We can't stop him passively." The tactician met Orion's optics once more. "We will lose this war if we don't start fighting it."

Orion held his gaze for a few astroseconds.

"That's all I had to say." Prowl pushed away from the table. He turned, as if to walk out of the room, but then swayed and started to topple.

Ratchet, who was still standing, leaped around Red Alert's chair to catch the Praxian before he collapsed to the ground. Mainspring got up too, and the two of them helped Prowl into the older mech's chair.

"Is he all right?" Elita asked.

Orion leaned forward over the table, anxious.

Ratchet scanned Prowl. "Idiot," he muttered. "You _idiot._ "

"Ratchet…" Orion said.

"Yes, he'll be fine." Even as Ratchet spoke, Prowl stirred, raising his helm and un-shuttering his optics slightly. "I'm going to take him back to the medbay, though. Come on."

Prowl gasped as Ratchet lifted him up from the chair and ducked under his arm. Mainspring took his other side and the two of them supported him out of the room.

An expectant silence fell after they were gone. Orion let it drag on as he considered what Prowl had said.

"Well," Ironhide was the one to speak first. "He's not wrong, is he?"

Chromia scowled. "I wish I could argue with that, for a lot of reasons. I mean, I still don't think we're doing _nothing_ like he seems to imply, but…" she looked at Orion. "He does make some good points."

"So…" Red Alert said. "What can we do?"

"Well, for one thing," Jazz said. "I oughtta try harder ta get some of our mecha back from Megatron. He took a lot of prisoners from Tesarus… pit, I don't even know if he took them with him. He mighta just offlined them all."

"But that's still reactionary," Ironhide said. "Just getting some prisoners back isn't going to _stop_ Megatron. How do we stop him? Prowl's right—that gladiator's all about making plans and carrying them out. And we're just sitting here, waiting for him to attack us. I bet you right now he's plotting how to take another city-state. We have to take action before he does."

But Orion didn't want to attack—didn't want to go on the aggressive.

Prowl's words rang in his audios.

 _We will lose this war if we don't start fighting it._

"What are ya suggesting?" Jazz said. "We don't have the forces ta outright attack Megatron anymore."

"That's true," Ironhide said.

"He sent assassins to kill Prowl," Chromia said. "Maybe we could send assassins after him."

"We don't _have_ any assassins," Elita said. "Besides, they'd have to get past Soundwave."

"What about him?" Chromia pointed at Jazz. "You hid among the Decepticons before. Do you think you could get back in?"

"I doubt it," Jazz said. "That was different."

"What we _really_ need to do is tighten security around here," Red Alert said. "So we don't let any more assassins in."

"Have you been listening?" Chromia demanded. "Prowl said that simply _reacting_ to whatever Megatron does isn't going to be enough."

" _Is_ there anything we can do, though?" Ironhide said. "We can't scare him off or attack him."

Silence fell again, and this time it was somber.

"Orion?" Elita said.

They needed him to encourage them or come up with some sort of a plan, but he wasn't sure how. He couldn't deny that Prowl was right, but he didn't know what to do any more than the rest of them.

"This…" he said. "This is a serious matter. And even if we had the resources to attack Megatron, which we do not, I cannot condone it. However, Prowl is right. We should be making more active plans to outmaneuver him…"

He wasn't sure what sort of plans they could make, though.

"So what are we going to do?" Chromia said. "Do you have an idea?"

Orion shook his helm. "For now, let's return to the meeting's agenda. Please be thinking about ways we can improve our strategy, and we will discuss them at the meeting next orn."

That didn't seem to satisfy them. Orion wasn't really satisfied with his own answer either, but he didn't know what else to say.

Prowl's pessimistic forecast hung heavy over the rest of the meeting.

* * *

Thundercracker watched impassively as the guards pulled a struggling, protesting prisoner out of a cell and took him away. There were hundreds. The makeshift dungeon was overflowing. Most of the captive Autobots were injured, but mobile. Those who had been too badly hurt to walk had been left to die in the streets of Tesarus.

Thundercracker knew Megatron was afraid to put these mecha in the mines, because there were enough of them they'd probably stage a revolt. Megatron was probably going to try to bargain with the Prime for their lives. He might even give them back. They were just a waste of energon sitting in cells, especially since they didn't need _all_ of them for Shockwave's experiments.

Who was he kidding? The Prime didn't have anything Megatron wanted. If keeping these prisoners got to be too much trouble, the warlord would just offline them.

As time went on, Thundercracker was more and more certain he didn't want to follow Megatron. He wasn't sure how to convince his brothers to leave, though. Skywarp would probably go along with it, but Starscream was _so_ certain he had something to gain from being here. It was frustrating—Screamer hadn't been like this, back on Vos. He'd been ambitious, yes, and not necessarily the nicest mech, but he had been better than this. Ever since he'd been denied his hard-earned place in the Vos Armada, he'd been bitter, desperate, vengeful, unpredictable.

Thundercracker was angry about that particular injustice, yes, but not the way Starscream was. Starscream was out of control.

Under other circumstances, Thundercracker would desert and fly home, but he couldn't bail on his brothers. For better or worse, he was stuck with them.

He wondered, not for the first time, whether becoming friends with Starscream and Skywarp had been a mistake. But he'd just been so lonely after returning to Vos.

Seekers thought groundpounders were stupid and lazy, but Thundercracker had never felt more cared for and accepted than he had among his friends in Kalis. When he had returned home, he'd pretended that it had been the worst experience of his life and that he hated everything to do with the surface. But a small part of him had wished he'd been able to stay in the groundpounder city.

Aside from missing Searchlight and Soundwave and the others, he'd been an outcast once he'd returned to Vos. Just the fact that he'd gone to the surface had tainted him, and his former friends had wanted nothing to do with him.

So, of course, he'd followed the example of his Kalis friends and found himself a couple of other outcasts to spend time with. It had worked out great for a little while. He should have known that wouldn't last. It hadn't lasted for Searchlight's gang either.

At least he still had his brothers, though. Some of the time. At the moment, Starscream and Skywarp were off on some sort of top secret mission. Thundercracker got the distinct feeling that they didn't want him to know what they were doing. He thought it had something to do with Vos, which was worrying because he _knew_ Starscream wanted revenge on the Vos Council and the elders of the Vos Academy.

But what could he do about it? If he confronted them, they'd just deny that they were hiding something from him.

He leaned against the wall and shuttered his optics. Guard duty gave you way too much time to think. The fact of the matter was that he wasn't going to leave his trine, so he was stuck here and he had to make the best of it.

He should keep trying to talk Starscream into leaving, though. The best thing for them to do in this situation would be to stay out of the conflict. That was what most of the seekers would do, because it was the smart, reasonable thing. He wasn't sure how to convince his brother of that, though. The trine leader was bent on ruling the Decepticons some orn.

A quiet conversation from inside one of the cells caught his attention. He glanced that direction, and one of the prisoners noticed he was looking and hissed at the others to be quiet. They were probably trying to put together some sort of escape attempt. He looked away again. He didn't care what they planned to do, but he hoped he wasn't on guard duty if and when they made their move.

* * *

Yoketron could tell as soon as Orion entered the crystal garden that he needed to talk about something before they trained, so he beckoned for the young Prime to sit down across from him.

"Welcome, Orion."

"Thank you, Master Yoketron." Orion bowed and sat.

He also wanted an update on his other student. "How is Prowl doing?"

Orion smiled slightly. "He… well, he joined us for our ornly meeting."

Yoketron raised an optic ridge. "So soon? I thought he was still in Ratchet's office."

"He was supposed to be," Orion said. "It probably wasn't wise. He showed up halfway through and told us all we're going to lose the war. Then he collapsed."

"Is he all right?"

Orion nodded.

That did sound like Prowl… and it was probably the thing causing Orion so much concern. "Is that what's on your mind, then? What did he say?"

Yoketron listened as the young Prime relayed what Prowl had said in the meeting. There was defeat in his voice—on his faceplate. Defeat already.

"Earlier," Orion continued after he'd finished the story. "Prowl said we should attack Megatron and I told him no. Now we don't have the power to attack, and even if we _did_ I still wouldn't want to."

"I think that is wise of you."

"But Prowl said we're going to lose because of it. How are we going to defeat Megatron if we never attack him? He can always just bide his time, living off of the city-states he's already captured."

"An outright attack surely isn't your only option."

"But what else can we do?" Orion demanded. "I won't draft mecha into my army. I won't spread false rumors about Megatron, I won't make deals with criminal organizations, or send assassins…"

Yoketron shook his helm. "You've just made a whole list of things Megatron has done. To fight his fire with more of the same is still simply reacting. I'd suggest thinking of something he _hasn't_ done, or even better—something he _can't_ do."

"Like what?"

Yoketron had a few thoughts, but he didn't want to fill the role of military advisor. He couldn't let Orion rely on him too much. Still… "Well, I can think of one thing you are that Megatron is not."

Orion looked down.

"You are no longer a librarian leading a rebellion group. Don't forget why you petitioned the Council to make Megatronus a Prime in the first place. You can use that power."

That didn't seem to encourage him. But Yoketron was certain the young mech would come to the right conclusions, given time. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss or are you ready to begin training?"

Orion was silent for several astroseconds, then he nodded. "I am ready."

* * *

Orion un-shuttered his optics with a weary sigh. His spark just wasn't in it—not this orn.

"I assume you didn't succeed," Yoketron said.

He didn't have to answer. It was the same every time—he would try to make his way to the beacon and then get distracted. If he got sidetracked even once then he would fail.

"Would you like another attempt or are you finished for the orn?"

"I… doubt another try would change anything."

Yoketron nodded. "Very well, then, you may go."

Orion got up and stretched. Finishing early would give him some extra time back at the tower. He ought to go check on Prowl—maybe talk to him for a while. The mech didn't get many visitors in Ratchet's office.

Of course, what Orion really wanted was to take a break—just for a joor or two. He checked his internal timepiece.

He _did_ have some time, and it had been ages since he'd talked to Maccadam.

He left the crystal garden and went inside the apartment. Petra and Landquake were sitting at the table, talking quietly, but Petra smiled at him when he entered.

"Good orn, Prime. Ready for Landquake to take you home?"

"Actually, I'd like to stop somewhere else first," Orion said. "But yes."

"All right," Landquake got up from the table. "Let's go." He brushed past Petra on his way around the table. "Later, my love." He said. She smiled up at him and Orion felt a sudden loneliness. He'd barely spoken to Elita since the Tesarus battle.

He commed her as he followed Landquake out the door, then gave the transport directions to Maccadam's while waiting for Elita to answer.

" _Orion,"_ she said through the comm. _"What is it?"_

" _I…"_ He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing. _"I miss you."_

" _I know,"_ Elita said. _"Are you all right? You've felt miserable since the meeting. Don't let what Prowl said get to you. There's no guarantee we'll lose the war. We can still—"_

" _Elita?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _Are you busy?"_

" _Always,"_ she said. _"But I can take a break if you need to talk."_

" _Can you meet me at Maccadam's?"_

Elita hesitated. _"Um… yes, I think. Give me a few breems and I'll head over there."_

" _Thank you. I'm sorry to take you away from your work."_

" _Honestly, I need a break too,"_ Elita said. _"And it's been too long since we just got to talk. I'll see you there."_

She cut the comm before Orion could tell her he loved her.

Landquake pulled up in front of Maccadam's. "You want me to wait here?"

"Yes, thank you," Orion said.

He walked in to Maccadam's, and the low lights and loud music brought back memories from his orns as an archivist. Since it was the middle of the on-cycle, it wasn't as crowded as normal, but there were still plenty of mecha talking and laughing.

Orion was a little disappointed to see that Maccadam wasn't behind the counter. The point of coming here was to talk to him.

He approached the bartender, whose optics lit up in recognition. "Good orn, Prime. What can I do for you?"

"Is Maccadam in?" Orion asked.

"I'm afraid not," the mech said. "He and his siblings are all out. I can let him know you're here, but…"

"No that's all right," Orion said. "I should have commed ahead." He ordered some flavored energon for himself and for Elita and found an empty table to wait at.

Several mecha came over to talk to him, shake his hand, and thank him. He also noticed a few around the room who scowled and turned away when he caught them looking at him.

He had just finished listening to a femme thank him animatedly in a Tarnian accent for helping the mecha from her city-state evacuate when Elita arrived. She slipped into the seat across from him as the grateful femme walked away.

"Hey," Elita said, smiling, but feeling confused and worried. "Is everything all right? What do you need to talk about?"

"Everything's all right," Orion said. "Well, at least, there's no bad news that you don't already know. But… I finished training with Yoketron early and I thought it might be a good excuse to spend some time together. I hoped I'd be able to talk to Maccadam too, but he's not here."

"Ah," Elita said, and accepted the cube of energon as Orion pushed across the table at her. Then she glanced over his shoulder, and he turned to see who else wanted to talk to him.

It turned out to be the bartender.

"Good orn, again," he said. "I noticed you've been the center of attention since coming here, and was wondering if you'd like to sit somewhere a little less crowded."

Orion glanced back at Elita, then nodded. "Yes. Thank you very much."

A little privacy would be nice.

The mech led them to a smaller overflow room with only a few mecha sitting at the tables.

"Oh," Orion said as the bartender turned to go. "I should pay you in case you're busy when we leave."

"Certainly not, Prime, sir," the mech said. "Energon's on the house for friends of Maccadam, even when he's not home. Let me know if you need anything else, though."

Elita found them a secluded booth. There was still loud music playing, so it was unlikely anyone would overhear their conversation, which meant they could speak openly.

"So," Elita said. "How's the trial coming? Any closer, do you think?"

Orion shook his helm. "It's the same every time. Maybe even worse this orn. I just… what Prowl said…"

"Hey," Elita said. "We'll figure something out. Megatron might have won the latest battle, but we'll come back stronger than ever. I promise."

"I feel like… like there has to be more I can do—more I _should_ do. But I'm not sure I want to think about it, because if I come up with a plan…"

Elita sipped her energon. "You don't want to come up with a plan because you're afraid it won't work?"

Orion shook his helm. "It's not that. I just don't want to fight."

She nodded. "I guess that's no surprise. You've said that before."

"If we go on the offensive…" Orion said. "If we go on the offensive, I feel like that means I'm losing. Like if I fight back, then I'm descending to Megatron's level."

Elita raised an optic ridge and he could tell she was about to say something, but then she stopped and shook her helm.

"What?"

She took another sip of her energon. "This is really good."

"What were you going to say?"

"I just think… part of your duty as a Prime is to protect the mecha of Cybertron, right? Surely that justifies aggression against those who would harm the mecha of Cybertron."

"But… it doesn't feel right."

Elita smiled at him. "You know I love you," she said. "More than anything in this world. You know that, right?"

Orion nodded.

"Then don't take this the wrong way. But at some point, Orion, you're going to have to stop focusing so much on yourself and look at the bigger picture."

He stared at her.

"If you let someone kill you because you don't want to fight back, that's one thing. But if you let someone kill or enslave hundreds of thousands of mecha because you don't want to fight back…"

Orion deflated.

She reached across the table and put a hand on his arm. "You're such a gentle spark, Orion, and you care so much about being good and doing the right thing. I know this is hard… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel worse."

He didn't want to meet her optics. He knew she was right.

"Orion?"

"Why is this so hard for me?" he wondered. "The rest of you wouldn't have any trouble with it. I just… back when we were fighting the Council, we never had to kill anyone."

Elita got up and came around the table to sit next to him. He put an arm around her, drawing her close to him on the bench so he could feel her spark pulsing in time with his. She sent a comforting feeling over the bond, and he shuttered his optics, trying to relax.

"It's hard for me too," she said softly, suddenly sorrowful. "I went to Tesarus during the battle to fight… and I killed a Decepticon soldier. Even though I was defending myself and Chromia, it felt wrong. I felt _horrible_ afterward, and I still feel horrible."

"I'm sorry," Orion said, tilting his helm to the side to rest it on top of hers.

"But I think it was worth it," Elita said. "Don't you?"

Orion hesitated. "You… were defending yourself. Of course it was worth it."

Elita took in a deep vent and sighed it out, still feeling unhappy. They sat quietly for a breem, and then she pushed away from him. "Let's go for a walk," she said. "I bet that will cheer both of us up."

"I probably shouldn't," Orion said. "Ironhide would be upset that I didn't bring any guards."

"I'll defend you," Elita smirked. "Don't worry."

"All right." He couldn't say no to her.

They finished their energon and Elita led the way out of Maccadam's. Orion stopped by Landquake to explain that he and Elita were going for a walk. Landquake said to comm. him if they needed him for anything and let them go without arguing that it was dangerous.

Orion and Elita didn't hold hands—they were too recognizable and it was important not to seem too close—but they chatted about the headway Elita was making with the army's public image as they walked next to each other.

Then the first group of younglings showed up.

Orion greeted them and started to apologize that he didn't have energon treats, but Elita pulled a bag of them from subspace and handed them to him.

He smiled at her. Apparently, she'd thought this through.

For the first breem he worried that he might be putting the younglings in danger, but then he gave in and fell into his normal routine of handing out energon treats. A few of them talked about seeing him on the news and asked him about fighting the Decepticons, but most of them just wanted to show him interesting pieces of metal they'd found, or tell him about how their creators had let them get a new symbiot.

He forgot all of his problems for several breems, lost in the happy crowd of mechlings.

But then he remembered and his spark fell.

He would love to stay like this forever—to be Orion Pax forever. But the simple things about his life would be lost soon—he wouldn't even remember them.

Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it would be a mercy.

And someone had to stand up to Megatron.

So far these mechlings were safe, free from the horrors of war. Many of them lived in poverty, but at least their city was intact. There were probably mechlings in Tesarus, Tarn, and Kaon, who had lost everything.

"Mr. Orion?" A dark green femme youngling said. "Are you sad?"

Elita slipped her hand into his.

And suddenly, he understood.

"Yes, Iridia," he said. "Yes. I'm sad because I have to fight, and I don't like fighting."

Iridia tilted her helm to the side thoughtfully.

Orion handed out his last few energon treats and then tried to make optic contact with Elita who was talking solemnly with the smallest of the sparklings—a little mechling who Orion hadn't seen before.

"I think we'd better go before any more show up," Orion held up the empty bag.

"Ah," Elita said. "I guess I should have bought more."

"That's all right," Orion said, and started saying goodbye to the sparklings. It took them a few breems to get away, and then they headed back toward Maccadam's.

"So," Elita said as they walked. "There was a moment back there…"

"Yes," Orion said. "There was... I…" He couldn't quite put it to words. "I guess… I don't want to let the war reach Iacon. I don't want it to hurt those mechlings. And we might be the only ones who can prevent that."

Elita nodded.

"It's worth it. For them, it's worth it."

"I'm glad you think so."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"Elita?"

"Yes?"

"I might have to leave Iacon for a few orns, maybe longer."

"Really?" she looked up. "Why?"

Orion took in a deep vent. "I'm the Prime. I have an obligation to every city-state, not just Iacon. And I think it's time I used my position to help us make some more allies."


	38. Close Calls

They took the sparkless frame of Shockwave's latest test subject away as he readjusted his instruments, making a few slight changes to their calibration. He was trying a new method of spark energy extraction. It was much more efficient, though the procedure still always killed his test subjects. He had enough spark energy stored up that he could start experimenting with it, but he wanted to solve the fatality problem first so that he would have a long-term, sustainable source of it for his experiments.

He knew Megatron was losing patience with him, and wanted him to work on other projects. The mines had been producing less than they should, and the warlord wanted better mining equipment. Shockwave saw the logical need for that, and so he would get around to it eventually. But at the moment, his scientific curiosity dictated that he experiment with the power of life itself until he had a better control over it.

Shockwave's assistants brought in another subject and dragged him to the medberth to restrain him there. He protested and fought. Many of them did that. Shockwave wondered why they bothered. Resisting was illogical—there was no way they could escape.

He finished at his station and went to connect all of the necessary equipment to this new subject. There was a lot of data collection involved in this procedure. He monitored processor activity, sensory data, and all the other systems. He needed to know what complications the spark energy extraction was causing in case the offlining wasn't entirely due to the spark trauma. He also thought it was always better to collect more data, if possible.

When all the sensory feeds and monitors were connected, Shockwave forced open the mech's chest plates and the panels underneath to expose his spark chamber. The captive cried out and struggled on the berth, but only until Shockwave immobilized him there, and deactivated his voice box. Shockwave checked the monitors briefly. Processor activity: normal; Spark: stable. He started hooking everything up to the mech's spark chamber, watching pain readings and core activity inch upward. Then he went back to his station to begin the harvesting process. He'd tried it with the subjects unconscious, but it was much more difficult to harvest from a spark that was in stasis, and the mecha usually offlined more quickly that way.

Shockwave started the machinery, and pulled up feeds from all the monitors on his computer screen. He had come close the last few times. Some of the subjects had survived for a few breems on spark support before permanently offlining. Shockwave had tried taking a smaller percentage of spark energy, but it seemed that taking any at all caused enough trauma to kill.

He was getting close, though. He was getting so close. Perhaps this time…

There was a humming noise that grew as the machinery worked, and spark energy was siphoned from the mech's spark chamber. Then, after just a few astroseconds, the process was over and silence fell again. Shockwave checked to make sure the spark energy had been collected successfully before going to switch out the extraction machinery with spark support. The mech had lost consciousness partway through, but his spark still pulsed faintly.

It was stronger than in any of the previous attempts. Shockwave watched carefully, waiting. The smallest hint of excitement lit in his emotional core as the mech's spark stabilized.

"Log entry five hundred twenty three. Test successful. Subject three hundred twelve's spark energy fifty percent removed, thirty percent successfully collected. Spark stabilized at 1:39 breems after the process. Vital signs normal, readings are as follows…" He listed off the readings from the monitors, but didn't disconnect them. "…will monitor the subject for a joor before assigning him to a holding cell. End log entry." He obviously wouldn't be able to keep all of the mecha he harvested from, but he wanted five to ten of them for observation purposes. And once they regained their strength, he wanted to try it again to make sure it was repeatable on the same mecha.

He would still want to work on this process until it was more efficient. He could find ways to collect a higher percentage of the energy, or find a faster, easier method. But for now, as soon as he was certain this mech wasn't going to offline, he could start the next phase of his projects.

* * *

"We are honored to have you here." High Councilor Tribute of the Polyhex Council wasn't certain why the Prime had come in person, but it made him nervous. The mech had demanded a meeting too, insisting that by virtue of his position, he had a right to appear before the Council.

"Thank you," Optimus said. "I am grateful for your willingness to meet."

They hadn't had much of a choice. Tribute didn't care about the religious side of it, but this mech _did_ have an army, and the Polyhex Council didn't want to provoke him in any way.

Polyhex had been neutral so far in the conflict, and despite a strong Decepticon following among the masses and even the government, Tribute wanted to _stay_ neutral.

"I have been to Kalis, Nova Cronum, Altihex, and Blaster City now," Optimus said. "And I intend to meet with all of the city-states that are not under Megatron's control."

Foolish of him. Did this mech realize how many enemies he had? Even Tribute was mildly tempted to have him arrested and then sell him to Megatron. The Prime had only brought a handful of guards with him. It would be easy to capture him.

"Why?" a Councilfemme asked. "To beg credit from us for your army? We can't spare any of our resources to help you."

"No," Optimus Prime said. There was something sorrowful about his posture. Showing emotion—especially weak emotions—was amateurish at best. "I have not come to ask for an alliance or resources. I have come to deliver a warning to you, and urge you to take action."

Tribute crossed his arms. Did this mechling really believe they would listen to some sort of spiritual warning?

Optimus continued. "Megatron and his Decepticons intend to conquer Cybertron in its entirety. It may be tempting to side with him, or to remain neutral. However, both of those paths will end with every mech and femme in this Council offline."

Tribute shook his helm. "That is a bold statement."

"It is a true statement, your honor."

"You are quite young and inexperienced to be making such predictions…"

"It is not my prediction," Optimus said. "It is written in the Covenant of Primus. The war Megatron wages will destroy the world. He will not be stopped until the entirety of Cybertron is in ruins and the Council system is destroyed."

"Even if we believed this," Tribute said. "What exactly would _we_ do about it?"

Optimus didn't miss a beat. "You must prepare," he said. "We have opened communications with nearly every city-state on the planet and my army has, so far, been willing to assist wherever the Decepticons attack. But after what happened in Tesarus, we know that will not be enough. You must raise your own militia and prepare to assist in fending off the Decepticons, should they strike Polyhex."

Tribute tried to interject, but the mech spoke over him.

"We can assist you with logistics and training, but you must expend your own resources to sustain your soldiers. This is the only way for you to be safe from Megatron."

Silence fell, and Tribute could tell that his councilmecha were looking to him to respond to the Prime's demands.

"Hmm," he said at length, tapping his finger on the side of his faceplate. "Don't you always claim you'll never force anyone to join your army?"

"This is not about my army," Optimus said. "And I do not have the power to force you to join me. You may call your soldiers Autobots if you wish, but you do not have to. You simply need to prepare to defend your home."

Tribute shook his helm. "Our economy is doing poorly right now. We can't make our own army."

"You must find a way," Optimus said. "You have my sincerest apologies for this, but… if you do not prepare to defend your city-state, then I cannot promise to come to your aid in the case of a Decepticon attack."

Tribute blinked.

"My army and I cannot fight every battle on our own."

"How _dare_ you threaten us!" Tribute said.

Optimus shook his helm sadly. "I have not threatened to harm you, only to withhold my help. We cannot risk repeating the events of Tesarus. I cannot lose that many of my soldiers again. Therefore, if you want protection, you must provide some of it for yourselves."

Tribute glared down at the mech standing on the Council floor. He still seemed sorrowful, but his tone had made it clear there would be no negotiating.

"Very well," he said. "The Council would like to deliberate on the matter."

Optimus nodded. "We have brought some terms and suggestions, which I will send to your secretary so you can review it. I would like you to make a decision this orn if you can. I will wait outside."

Tribute watched as the Prime walked calmly from the room.

Silence fell for a moment, as the door closed behind him, and then the Council Hall erupted into chaos as councilmechs voiced their outrage that the Prime would dare threaten them and go against his promise to defend the city-states.

But something like this had been inevitable.

And now it seemed they had to pick a side.

* * *

Prowl put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward as he re-read the list of designations Mainspring had sent him. He'd just finished interviewing all of these mecha, and overall, he wasn't very impressed. In general, his candidates were young, inexperienced, and barely qualified.

Then again, Mainspring had probably done that on purpose. Prowl was also all three of those things, and more experienced mecha probably wouldn't be willing to follow him anyway.

There was an entry request at his door and he pushed himself back to a full sitting position, grimacing at the pain in his spark.

It had been a long orn, and he was ready for it to be over. He certainly didn't want to talk to anyone else.

He didn't even want to get up and go open the door, which was why he'd left it unlocked. They really needed a system for remotely opening, closing, and locking the office doors. He made a mental note to suggest that to Red Alert, for the new base. "Come in," he called.

The door slid open.

Ironhide.

Prowl took in a deep vent, trying not to look nervous. He hadn't spoken personally to the commander since Tesarus had fallen, but he knew the mech was upset about it. And in a way, the whole thing was Prowl's fault.

Last time Ironhide had been upset about the way a battle had gone, he'd slammed Prowl into a wall.

Prowl doubted a repeat of that would end with him conscious.

"Can I help you?" he asked, aware that his voice sounded cold and condescending but unable to do anything about it.

Ironhide approached the desk and Prowl's doorwings flicked nervously, which made the pain in his back flare up.

"Okay," Ironhide said and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. He studied his hands, looking almost as uncertain as some of the mecha Prowl had just interviewed. "I know this is kind of overdue, but I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Prowl blinked.

"Having now experienced a battle where the mech directing it didn't know what the pit he was doing, I think I'm starting to appreciate you being here."

Prowl wasn't really sure what to say.

"So, I'm sorry for being such an aft about the first battle. It was my fault we lost those mecha, not yours."

Well, that was definitely true. But the last thing Prowl had expected was an apology. The whole thing was in the past anyway. Ironhide was looking at him, though, like he expected Prowl to say something in return.

Prowl took a deep vent, which made his spark feel like it was on fire. "I accept your apology," he said.

"Thank you," Ironhide raised an optic ridge. "Uh… how are you doing, by the way?"

"I've been better," Prowl said, looking back at his datapad and the list of designations on it. "But I'll survive." He'd heard that Ironhide had been injured in the battle, but his repairs had been finalized more than a decaorn ago. Prowl would be completely recovered too, except that his spark chamber had been damaged.

Ironhide sat, watching him for several uncomfortable astroseconds, then got up. "Well, I'll leave you to your work. Take it easy, though, all right." He walked toward the door.

"Thank you," Prowl said.

Ironhide hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder with a bit of a crooked smile, before leaving the room.

The door closed behind him and Prowl looked down again. He was relieved that Ironhide hadn't been angry with him, though the whole conversation had been somewhat forced.

He went back to work. He had a lot to think about and many important decisions to make.

* * *

Mirage hadn't had much time to relax over the past several decaorns, so he wasn't too happy to be drawn from the novel he was reading.

He looked up from the datapad with a sigh and answered his comm. "Yes?" he said. "What do you want, Jazz? I just got back from Helex, so if you need someone to go on a mission, send another mech."

" _Megs has left Kaon,"_ Jazz replied. _"Meaning Soundwave's almost certainly gone too. Ya wanna go sneak inta the Decepticon base for me?"_

Mirage had _just_ told him to send someone else. "That pit? No thank you. Can't you go yourself?"

" _I mean, I_ could _but I can't turn invisible, and I wanna figure out how ta rescue the soldiers who were captured in Tesarus as quickly as possible. Please, 'Raj…"_

"Fine," Mirage turned his datapad off and set it neatly on the corner of his desk. He'd have to get back to it some other orn.

" _Come ta my office so I can brief ya on the mission."_

Jazz cut the comm. and Mirage left his room and made his way to Jazz's office. Of all the places he'd traveled for the Autobots, Kaon was probably his least favorite. The entire city-state was practically built out of rust.

But he'd go. They did need to rescue the Autobot prisoners.

Jazz's office door was open when Mirage got there, so he stepped inside, crossing his arms.

"Hey, mech," Jazz looked up from his desk. As usual, there were datapads and styluses and empty energon cubes strewn across the desk and the floor, along with what looked like the remains of a computer console that someone had disemboweled.

"So…" He tried to ignore the mess as he shut the door behind himself. He told himself that for all intents and purposes, he really didn't own this tower anymore, so it didn't matter that parts of it looked like a wild symbiot nest. "What would you like me to do?"

"Right," Jazz said. "We're pretty sure Megatron'll be gone for the rest of the orn, and probably next orn too, so ya've got some time. I want ya ta get inta their base and look around. Find out where they're keeping the prisoners, check up on Shockwave, look for any possible escape routes. I don't need ya ta rescue anymech, but—"

"Hold on," Mirage said.

"What?"

"How do you even know Megatron's gone?"

Jazz shrugged. "I have my ways."

"But isn't it impossible to infiltrate the Decepticon command element because of Soundwave?"

"Finding out when Megatron leaves base ain't that hard, but I'm not gonna tell ya how I do it unless it becomes important for ya ta know. Now, I don't want ya ta try and rescue anymech unless there's a really good opportunity, but I want ya ta find all the prisoners. Also, if ya can find out where Megatron's gone, that'd be nice."

Mirage nodded. He figured since he was technically second in command of the department, he ought to know how Jazz was getting information from Kaon. But he didn't want to argue. "Anything else?"

"Updates on Shockwave would be nice, as well as anything ya can figure out about plans and statistics. I'll send ya a list of things ta look for through your datapad."

"All right," Mirage said.

"Oh, and check in every two joors if ya can. And if I don't let ya know before zero joors, Iacon time, that it's time ta leave, just leave. We don't wanna push our luck."

Mirage nodded once more, then activated his mod, and left Jazz's office. Zero joors was when most mecha got _up_. By the time Mirage got back, he was going to be recharging on his pedes. Oh well. It was all part of the job description.

* * *

Orion got up when the secretary beckoned to him. With his guards trailing behind him, he walked back into the Council chamber.

High Councilor Tribute rose as he entered.

"Welcome again, Optimus Prime," the mech said. "We have considered your proposal."

"Thank you. Did you reach a conclusion?" They'd been talking about it for two joors, but that didn't mean anything.

"Yes," Tribute said. "We will agree to your terms, though we are not ready to make an official statement about it. We will maintain a militia here to help protect Polyhex from attack. However, we will not join our militia with your forces. It will be an independent organization."

Orion nodded. That was fair. He was honestly surprised that Polyhex was the first city to make that decision. The rest had wanted to join their forces with the Autobots.

He supposed he was used to the way the Iacon Council twisted everything to their greatest advantage, and refused to cooperate with him. Many of the other Councils were easier to work with.

"We will speak further on this matter when you are ready," he said. "Do you think a decaorn will be long enough for you to finalize your plans?"

Tribute seemed to consider that for a few astroseconds. Then he nodded. "I can make no promises, but we will contact you in a decaorn with an update."

"Thank you again for listening," Orion said. "If that is all, I will take my leave."

The Polyhex Council didn't have anything else to say so Orion left the Council Hall.

He transformed and drove with his guards through the crowded streets of Polyhex. The groundbridge station wasn't very far from the Council Hall, so they hadn't bothered to hire a transport. Orion didn't want to waste the credit anyway, and it felt nice to drive on his own wheels among crowds of mecha.

The aesthetic of Polyhex was very different from that of Iacon. The buildings were painted darker, but there were also more bright, neon colors everywhere—on glowing signs, painted on buildings, and incorporated into the paint jobs of mecha driving alongside him.

It was beautiful. He hoped the city stayed this way. He knew there were a lot of problems here, but there was a lot of culture too.

Over his bond, he felt Elita get excited about something, but barely had time to wonder what it was, because the traffic slowed and he could hear some sort of commotion up ahead. He strained to make out the distant shouting, hoping everyone was all right.

Then a brilliant ball of fire erupted right in front of him, blinding him and engulfing the guard leading the way.

He skidded to a stop, but something crashed into him from the side before he could transform, throwing him off the road.

Plasmatic energon coursed through him, and then darkness engulfed him.

* * *

Elita knew Orion could tell their bond was stronger now, but she didn't think it affected him as much as it affected her. She picked up on every nuance of his emotions, every moment of happiness, sorrow, boredom, fear, uncertainty. She could tell when he was winning an argument, or losing one. She felt it every time he entered a trial.

She hated the trials. She hated that they introduced viruses into his processor that put him through unreasonable, impossible ordeals. She didn't think it was necessary, and she didn't think it was right. A part of her was guiltily relieved that she hadn't been bonded to him when he'd been working through the first one, not just because hearing his pain would have been difficult to bear, but because she wouldn't have been able to prevent herself from storming down there and demanding that they stop.

She was worried that there would be more painful ones in the future.

She was also worried about him going into battle. She knew he intended to fight, at least sometimes, and she was afraid she'd feel him get hurt, or offline. She knew she wouldn't survive if he died, and not just because Ratchet had said it. They were part of each other now, even more than the first time they'd been bonded.

He'd been very nervous about talking to the Polyhex Council. He'd been worried they'd refuse to listen and afraid that, as a result, he'd have to withdraw his protection from them.

But she could tell that everything had gone well. He was probably on his way back to the groundbridge station now. His next destination was Gygax, and then he'd come home, but by then it would be the middle of the off-cycle in Iacon, and she would probably already be recharging.

There was a ping on Elita's datapad, which brought her back to the present. She checked her messages, then opened the newest one hurriedly.

[To: Autobot Leadership,

Thank you for your continued interest in meeting with us. We have discussed your petition and, at length, have come to a decision. We do not have much time to waste on you, and this offer only extends to the end of the orn, but we are willing to meet with the Prime at your earliest convenience. Please arrive as quickly as possible,

The High Council of Vos]

Elita read the message again, spark pulsing excitedly. Finally, _finally_ the Vos Council was willing to talk with them. Willing to _meet_ with them, even. She'd have to…

Something happened to Orion.

She felt a sudden spike of surprise and panic through the bond.

Then pain.

Then nothing.

She gasped and dropped her datapad onto the desk. She could still feel him faintly through the bond—He was unconscious, but alive.

And he was in trouble.

* * *

Ironhide let out a heavy sigh as he sat across from Jazz with a cube of energon.

"Long orn?" Jazz asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Ironhide said. "Some of these new recruits…" he rolled his optics. "At least you don't have to deal with that."

"Hey, I'm training the mecha in my department too," Jazz said. "That's not always easy, but I guess I don't have as many to deal with as you do."

Ironhide shook his helm. "You don't understand. Half of these idiots don't even know which end of the gun the plasma comes out of."

Jazz shrugged.

"Don't try to tell me you've got it hard. Every time I see you, you're sitting here chatting with someone."

Jazz grinned. "Guess ya picked the wrong department, mech," he said. He really was busy, even though he spent a lot of time in the central room. He had to stay in contact with all of his mecha, and keep track of everything that was going on under the radar. Unofficially, he was also in charge of keeping morale up among the command element, which was sometimes exhausting too.

"I must have," Ironhide said, downing his cube of energon. "Well, I'd love to stay and talk, but unlike you…" he trailed off, frowning, and put a hand to his helm, indicating that he was taking a comm.

Then he stood, suddenly.

"What?" Jazz asked. Ironhide jogged toward the door that led to everyone's offices and rooms. It burst open before he could reach it, and Elita and Moonracer came running in. Then all three of them left.

Jazz got up and walked casually after them, figuring he'd probably want to help with whatever they were so concerned about.

He found them standing just beyond the door, speaking in urgent whispers. They stopped when he stepped into the hall with them.

"What's going on?" Jazz asked.

"Orion's guards aren't responding," Ironhide said. "Something's happened."

Jazz frowned. That didn't sound good. "He's in Polyhex, right?"

Elita nodded, looking very worried. "I think someone must have attacked them or something."

That was an interesting conclusion to jump to. She seemed pretty sure about it though. He frowned at her, and she met his optics and looked away again, as if uncomfortable about something.

"How do ya know?"

Moonracer shook her helm slightly and Elita sighed. "I… I was talking to him over a comm… and then he just cut off with no warning. I'm pretty sure something bad happened to him."

She sounded almost like she was lying.

Why would she be lying?

Jazz told himself it didn't matter—not when Orion could be in danger. "Please tell me Ratchet finished making those tracker things and put one on him."

Elita shook her helm.

"Well, that's great," Jazz said. "Guess we gotta go find him… Have I ever mentioned Polyhex ain't the safest place ta be?"

"I think we all know that," Ironhide said. "Can you find him?"

Jazz shrugged. "I can try," he said. "When were ya on the comm. with him, Elita?"

"Just two breems ago."

"Okay. Do ya know where he was or what he was doing?"

"He was driving to the groundbridge station, from the Council Hall."

That was a good enough start. Jazz commed Mainspring for a groundbridge. "All right," he said out loud. "I'm gonna go look for him."

"I'm coming too," Ironhide said

"So am I," Elita stepped forward.

Jazz shook his helm. "I don't think we wanna put ya in danger like that—"

"I am coming," she insisted.

Mainspring answered his comm. _"Good orn, Jazz. What can I do for you?"_

" _We've got a situation,"_ Jazz said. _"I'm gonna need a two-way groundbridge from the tower ta the middle of Polyhex, right now."_

* * *

Orion felt like something was pulling on him, dragging him toward consciousness… Elita… Something was wrong…

He came to suddenly and un-shuttered his optics. Over the bond, he felt Elita reach out, surprised and worried and desperate. He tried to send comforting feelings back, though he could barely see and he still felt shaky from whatever it was they'd used to knock him unconscious.

"Hey, he's awake."

"What? That should have knocked him out for a couple of joors."

Orion tried to sit up. His comm. wasn't working, and his hands were stasis-cuffed in front of him. It took him an astrosecond or two to realize those two things were probably related. What had happened? He seemed to be in a small, rectangular room, and he could feel it shaking, as if it was moving.

A transport—he was on a transport. Three other mecha with guns sat around him, watching him.

"Oh, well," one of them said. "Doesn't matter."

He'd been kidnapped.

"Maybe it's 'cuz he's a Prime," one of them suggested. "Maybe we shouldn't have…" He trailed off as the mech who hadn't spoken yet glared at him.

"Good orn," Orion said, maneuvering into a kneeling position. "Perhaps we can… discuss this?" he raised his stasis-cuffed hands a little.

"Not with you," the third mech said. "Maybe with the Council, or your friends. Keep quiet, and don't ask questions and we won't need to hurt you. Understand?"

They were going to hold him for ransom then. Orion shuttered his optics and took in a deep vent.

"And don't try anything." The mech said. "Or expect a rescue. They probably don't even know you're gone yet."

They did know he was gone. And they were coming for him. Orion just needed to figure out where he was and find a way to communicate that to them. Maybe his captors would let something slip.

"I doubt that the Iacon Council would pay very much for me," he said. "I am not exactly in their good graces."

"I said no talking," the mech who seemed to be in charge pulled an energon prod out from subspace and turned it on so plasmatic energon sparked at the end of it. "And I meant it."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, trying to stay calm and _think_. He looked around the transport. The interior was fairly standard, and it had a door in the back instead of on the side. He wondered if it was sentient. If so, it might be hard to get out, but if not, the door would be unlocked. If Orion could get far enough away from these mecha, and find a way to get the stasis-cuffs off, he would probably be able to comm. Elita with his coordinates. He just needed to distract them and get out of the transport somehow.

Actually, if he timed things right, he might not need to get the cuffs off to send a message. He studied the door, then looked down, planning out exactly what he was about to do. Then he took another deep vent, and sent reassurance in advance over his bond with Elita. "The Autobots can't pay you," he said. "Please…"

The mech with the energon prod, true to his threat, thrust the weapon toward him.

Orion brought his hands up and caught the tip of it with the stasis cuffs. The plasmatic energon hurt a lot worse than he had expected, but for just one moment, it shorted the cuffs out and he managed to send a message.

Then he sprang forward, ignoring the pain. He knocked the mech with the prod over and got to his pedes in time to slam another one of his kidnappers into the wall.

The third mech fired his gun, but Orion dodged and bowled him over as well, even as the first two mechs were getting back up.

Orion rammed his shoulder into the button for the back door and it folded in on itself, revealing a dark underground street.

"Hey!"

"Stop him!"

Orion leaped out of the transport and hit the ground in a roll. It was awkward because of his stasis-cuffed hands, and he felt like one of his arms was nearly pulled out of its socket. He fought to get up again as he heard the transport skid to a stop, and then running pedesteps behind him.

He was barely standing when something hit him from behind and he toppled. He tried to catch himself, but with an injured shoulder and his hands tied in front of him it didn't work very well.

He made it to elbows and knees before his kidnappers reached him. Someone shoved him back to the ground.

"Maybe I'll sell you to Megatron instead." The mech growled in his audio. "Think he'll care how many pieces you're in?"

Suddenly, Orion felt like his back was on fire. He screamed, and for a moment he thought he was going to black out again.

"Boss! Boss, someone might have heard that."

"Come on, let's get him back in the transport."

The weight left Orion's back, but he didn't feel like fighting anymore. He kept his optics shuttered and his denta gritted against the pain as he was dragged roughly to his pedes.

Then he heard running pedesteps, coming from the other direction this time.

* * *

Elita stepped through the groundbridge onto a crowded sidewalk. Somewhere up ahead, there was smoke rising from the street, and she could hear the distant sound of sirens.

Then she felt Orion come online and reached out to him. Where was he? Was he all right?

He sent her a reassuring feeling, but she wasn't convinced.

"Let's check that out," Jazz said casually and slipped through the jostling crowd toward the commotion ahead.

"Hey!" Ironhide said, but Jazz had already disappeared.

Orion didn't feel badly hurt, but he was definitely scared. She tried comming him, but it didn't go through.

"Fine then," Ironhide growled. "Out of the way! Move!" He started shoving through the crowd. Elita followed him closely as they made their way toward the smoke.

She couldn't see what was happening up ahead, but the sound of enforcer sirens got louder as they went.

Then, suddenly, Jazz was next to her again.

"'Hide," he said, and Ironhide turned around.

"Where the frag did you go? Don't just ditch us like that."

"Sorry," Jazz said, lip plates set in a grim line. "I went up ta see what was happening up there. Apparently there was some kinda commotion up the road, and then while traffic was slowed down, there were a couple of explosions. The blast killed some mecha, including at least one of Orion's guards."

Elita's spark sank.

"I didn't see Orion's frame," Jazz said. "But if this was some kinda assassination attempt, he was probably the target. He could be…"

Elita shook her helm. She could still feel him over the bond.

"I'm sorry," Jazz said. "But…"

"He's not offline," she said.

"Well, we don't know for sure…"

"Look," Ironhide said. "Let's not give up until we've found his frame." He sent Elita an internal comm. _"Can you feel him?"_

" _Yes. He's close, and he's conscious again."_

Ironhide nodded.

"What?" Jazz asked.

" _Do you know what direction he's in?"_

" _No,"_ Elita said, feeling helpless. _"Though it feels like he's getting farther away."_

"Ya wanna go back there and talk ta the enforcers?" Jazz asked. "See if they know something?"

Orion reached out to her over the bond with what almost felt like a warning.

"Elita?" Ironhide said.

Suddenly, he was in a lot of pain. She gasped and grabbed Ironhide's arm to steady herself.

"Hey," he said, concerned. "What? What happened?"

She got a message through her comm. from Orion. A set of coordinates.

Then the pain faded, but he was still stressed—almost panicked.

"What?" Ironhide demanded again as she pushed away from him.

"I'm fine," she said. "Orion just commed me. He sent me coordinates. He's alive." She passed them along to Jazz and Ironhide.

"I'll get us another bridge," Jazz said.

Elita winced as another spike of pain came over the bond.

"Come on, we've gotta get outta this crowd," Jazz said.

Elita followed Ironhide off the sidewalk, and down a narrow side street. There was a third, larger spike of pain, but she tried not to react. As much as she knew Orion trusted Jazz, she didn't think he should know about their bond.

A bridge opened in front of them, and she followed Jazz and Ironhide through onto a gloomy, underground street. Far ahead, she could see a transport with its back door open, and several mecha behind it.

Orion was standing between two others who were dragging him toward the transport.

Ironhide and Jazz sprinted toward the mecha, and Elita ran with them. One of the kidnappers turned around just in time for Ironhide to shoot him in the helm. The other one let go of Orion and ran. A third mech engaged Ironhide, but Elita didn't pay much attention to the fight. She watched as Orion sank to his knees, facing away from her. Energon flowed down his back from a long gash just below his shoulder.

She skidded to a stop beside him. "Orion!"

He un-shuttered his optics and smiled at her, but he was trembling with pain.

"You'll be okay," she said, and took his faceplate in her hands, afraid to embrace him because of his wound. She was trembling as well. "We found you. You'll be okay."

"I know."

Elita shuttered her optics, feeling sick. She tried to tell her pounding spark that everything would be fine—they'd get Orion back to Mirage's tower and Ratchet would repair him.

But that had been too close. They'd almost lost him.

She'd almost lost him.

Jazz came roaring back in alt mode, towing one of the kidnappers behind him. He transformed when he reached them, and let go of the rope that was tying the semi-conscious mech's pedes together. "The frag, 'Hide?" he said. "Did ya offline both of yours? I told ya—"

"Sorry," Ironhide growled, glaring down the road at the distant rectangle that was the back of the transport, just as the gloom swallowed it. "You let one of yours get away."

"Well, at least—"

"Let's just go home," Ironhide said. I'll comm. Mainspring for a bridge."

Elita carefully helped Orion to his pedes, and Ironhide came to support him from the other side as the groundbridge opened in front of them.


	39. Bait

Mirage walked calmly through the Decepticon base. Other spies had to learn to move quietly and sneak around, but Mirage could stomp through the halls shouting and no one would notice him. Of course, sneaking was a valuable skill, and he should probably work on it in case his mod ever malfunctioned, but honestly he was too busy running around on missions to do much practicing.

He made his way down a set of stairs, and then had to wait for a while at the door to the Decepticon prison. Before too long, a guard showed up and Mirage slipped in the door right behind him. Then, he got out of the doorway quickly while the guard he'd followed in talked briefly with another guard, and then took his place.

This room had probably been some sort of storage cellar before the Decepticons had started using it to keep prisoners. The cells were for holding merchandise, not mecha, and it wouldn't be too hard to stage a breakout, especially with Mirage to unlock all the doors. He would have to communicate with the prisoners, though, and that was more difficult because he couldn't speak without turning off his mod.

He walked the length of the room, thinking. The cells were ridiculously crowded and it seemed there were a lot of injured mecha among the prisoners who hadn't been attended to. That might make an escape a little more difficult. In order to bridge these mecha back to Iacon, they'd need to get them out of the city limits, or bring down the groundbridge shielding. Neither of those would be easy.

And they had to be careful about letting the prisoners know, too, because if Soundwave found out the Autobots were planning to rescue them, it was all over.

Jazz had given Mirage permission to try and break them out during this mission if he thought it was possible, and Mirage wished it was…

But there was no way to get them all off the Decepticon base without sounding some sort of alarm. It was too risky.

Better to wait. Mirage knew the Decepticons were planning on moving to a different base soon. If he could find out exactly when they were going to relocate the prisoners, it might be a good opportunity to rescue them.

The door opened and two guards came in, dragging a mech between them. They were followed by three other sets of guards, also bringing unconscious mecha. The guards opened one of the emptier cells and tossed the newcomers in, then left.

Mirage walked toward the cell with the new additions, listening as frightened hushed voices came from the cells around him. He tried to pick out what the prisoners were whispering among themselves.

"…those the same mecha?"

"…brought them back…"

"…never come back before…"

Mirage stopped outside the cell, looking in as the few conscious prisoners shuffled around to make space for the newcomers.

"Are they online?" Someone in the next cell over asked.

The Decepticon guard glared in their direction.

"Yeah," someone said, kneeling over one of the unconscious mecha. "I think so. I mean, they're not _awake,_ but they're alive."

"Stop talking," the guard said, but wandered over, looking curious.

One of the unconscious mechs shifted and moaned, and the mecha in the cells around them pushed up against the bars, trying to see. An expectant hush fell over the room.

"Hey," the mech who'd been talking before said quietly. "Hey, can you hear me?"

Mirage had to move out of the way so the guard didn't bump into him.

The mech they'd brought back un-shuttered his optics, which flickered twice and then came on.

"Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," the mech said quietly. "I… I think. What happened?"

"I was about to ask you that. Can you remember?"

The mech shuttered his optics. "They… they opened me up… some sort of machine. There was this mech with no faceplate, just a big red optic…"

"What?" someone else said.

The dim-opticed mech sobbed.

"Hey…" the first mech to speak said, and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, mech…"

"…I felt like… I was dying. Like my spark was being torn in half. I think I passed out… I… I thought I was going to die… it hurts…" he trailed off, trembling for a few astroseconds then went still and silent, apparently unconscious again.

Mirage felt sick. He knew who that mech with the single optic was, and he could guess what this meant. No one had come back before, but now they were sending them back, online. Shockwave had been successful. He could now harvest as much spark energy as he wanted.

Mirage wondered for a moment how many mecha Shockwave had killed to get to this point. The thought made him angry. He wanted to go stick a nice long blade into that one-opticed freak's spark chamber. He could do it. No one would be able to stop him.

He ought to.

The Prime would be disappointed in him, though.

And Mirage hadn't ever actually killed anyone before. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it.

Either way, he needed to find Shockwave. If the mad scientist was on the next phase of his spark energy project, Mirage had to look into it. He backed away from the cell with the unconscious mecha and headed for the door, then hesitated. Should he wait to slip out the next time someone came in?

No. The guard was distracted by the unconscious mecha, and the speculations among the prisoners about what had happened to him. He pressed the button to open the door and left, searching his memory files for directions to Shockwave's lab.

He realized as he made his way to the central part of the base that he should probably send Jazz a message before doing anything so dangerous as infiltrating Shockwave's lab. However, sending messages from inside the Decepticon base was risky, even with Soundwave gone.

"…don't think he trusts me…" a voice said, and Mirage hesitated. He recognized that voice, it was the mech from Quantum—Blackangle—who was trying to stage a coup. Jazz didn't seem to think he had much of a chance and Mirage tended to agree—no one could overthrow Megatron when Soundwave was backing him.

"…This would be a perfect time if it weren't for that freak. I can't believe it. Megatron took all the other fliers with him to Vos."

"It _is_ too bad." The two Quantum mecha came around the corner. Mirage pressed himself to the wall so they wouldn't bump into him. "But I don't think it necessarily means he's onto you."

So Megatron was in Vos. That was interesting. Mirage knew that the Decepticons had been talking to Vos… but why would Megatron need to go there for an entire orn? That seemed kind of suspicious.

"Either way, it makes it impossible to move now. We'll have to wait and look for a better opportunity."

"You know," the second mech said. "It might be a good idea to try and get rid of Soundwave, if you're really worried he's figured you out."

They passed him and Mirage pushed away from the wall to follow them. It would be really, really nice if they got rid of Soundwave. Then Mirage could come here whenever he wanted. Not that he _wanted_ to come here, but it would make it a whole lot less nerve-wracking.

"I'd like to," Blackangle said. "But I don't want to take any chances. There has to be a reason Megatron puts so much trust in him. I've only ever seen him doing desk work and, from what I know, the gladiator doesn't have too much appreciation for desk work. There has to be something else there too."

Well, he was right about that.

"I have a feeling I'll only have one chance at this, so I've got to be careful," Blackangle said. "I'm not going to spend effort on an assassination attempt that only gets me part way to my goal. Also, speaking of being cautious, I know the cameras don't pick up sound, but we need to be more careful where we talk. I have this weird feeling like someone's listening."

Mirage smiled.

He followed them a little further, but their conversation was finished and they parted ways at the next intersection. Mirage wished he'd heard the whole thing instead of coming in somewhere near the middle. He paused to think back on everything he'd heard them say, committing it to long-term memory.

He'd only made it to the end of Blackangle's first sentence before he stopped, core turning to ice.

Oh, Primus.

 _This would be a perfect time if it weren't for that freak. I can't believe it. Megatron took all the other fliers with him to Vos_

There was only one mech he could have been talking about.

Mirage had been right there, listening in on that conversation. Right there, and he probably hadn't been the only one eavesdropping.

Soundwave was still on base.

Mirage took a side hall, heading for the nearest way out, but then stopped. He couldn't panic. Panicking would lead to mistakes. He had to contact Jazz. Caution was out of the picture now. He pulled out his datapad and typed up a quick message, explaining that he was aborting the mission and why.

He hit send and continued down the hallway. He was about to stick the datapad back in subspace when an alert popped up on it, informing him that his message hadn't gone through.

* * *

Jazz was missing something.

Actually, he felt like he was missing a lot of things, and it was driving him insane.

"That's all I know, I swear," the mech said. He was stasis-cuffed, cowering on the floor of Mirage's vaults. "We just saw an opportunity and took it. It wasn't even my idea, I just went along with it. Please don't hurt me, I promise I'm not working for Quantum or the Council or anyone, we just thought we could make some credit."

Jazz had no intention of hurting anyone. "Ya're lucky I believe ya," he said. "Because your friend's plan was the stupidest idea I have ever heard, and that's sayin' something. Ya really thought ya could kidnap the _Prime_ and get away with it?"

Even if there was something larger at work here, this mech probably didn't know about it. The mech who'd been in charge of the group—the only one who might have known anything important—was offline, thanks to Ironhide. Jazz had _told_ him not to kill anyone, but he hadn't listened.

"Thank you," the would-be kidnapper said, then stared up at him with frightened optics. "What… what are you going to do with me?"

"Eh," Jazz said. "Don't know yet. Don't freak out, though, the worst thing that'll happen ta you is us handing ya over ta Polyhex enforcement."

His comm. beeped and he answered it. _"Yeah, Prime?"_

" _We need to have a meeting,"_ Orion's voice spoke over the comm. _"It's a matter of some urgency, and we would like your input."_

All right, then. "I've gotta go," he said to the prisoner. "I'll talk to ya later, mech. Don't try anything stupid."

Jazz slipped from the vault and locked it behind himself, then headed toward the meeting room.

He was missing something. Elita had lied to him about Orion comming her, and how she'd figured out he'd been kidnapped. What did that mean? Did they have some other way to determine if he was in trouble? He was a Prime, so it couldn't be any sort of bond.

What was Jazz missing?

He pulled his datapad out of subspace, and it pinged several times, letting him know he'd gotten messages. He skimmed through them, noting that he'd gotten a report from Mirage. He'd completely forgotten he'd sent the noblemech to Kaon four joors ago. And this was the first message he'd received.

He read it as he walked.

[Sorry for the wait. I haven't been very productive, unfortunately, but I decided to report anyway. I have located the prisoners, but haven't been able to contact them. I also haven't been able to find out much of what you asked me to. I do have a little information to send you, which I'll put at the end of the message. The only good news is that I discovered that Megatron and Soundwave are in Tesarus and will be there for three more orns. Of course, that's also bad news because it means I have to spend more time in this dump. I'll get back to you in a few more joors if I find anything out.]

Tesarus, huh? Jazz wondered what they might be doing there. Quelling resistance, possibly, though he hadn't heard anything about that from the agent he had in Tesarus. He'd have to check and see if there had been any sign of Megatron there.

But first he had to go to this meeting. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings. Couldn't whatever this was wait until the ornly meeting next on-cycle?

He entered the meeting room and took his normal seat next to Mainspring.

"Thank you for coming, Jazz," Orion said. His shoulder was in a brace and covered in temp plating. "And thank you for your help in rescuing me earlier."

"No problem," Jazz said. "Um… I got some questions about that, actually…" He glanced around, careful not to move his helm, so no one could tell he was looking at them, and wasn't surprised to see how uncomfortable Elita, Ratchet, and Chromia looked. They were _definitely_ hiding something. "I wanna try and figure out more about the mecha who took ya. They mighta said something useful ta you Orion…I mean Optimus…uh, what do ya even want ta be called, mech?"

"Either one," Orion said. "Though when we are in front of mecha who don't know me personally, it would be good to call me by my title."

"Right," Jazz said.

"Speaking of my kidnappers, I never asked what happened to them. Did they escape?"

"Two are offline," Ironhide said. "We have the other in custody."

Orion's optics widened and he stared at Ironhide. "But… was that truly necessary?"

"Orion, thousands of mecha died in the last battle and you're worried about a couple of…"

"There is no excuse for unnecessary killing," Orion said. "Please try to avoid it if you can."

Ironhide shut his lip plates and shot a guilty look at the ground. Orion turned his attention to Jazz.

"As for the third mech..."

"I talked ta him," Jazz said. "As far as he knows it was a spur of the moment kinda thing. They just saw ya and thought they might get something out of kidnapping ya and holding ya for ransom."

"Really?" Ironhide said. "Are you sure he's telling the truth?"

Jazz shrugged. "Pretty sure. Polyhexians can be kinda stupid and crazy like that. I think it's something in the atmosphere." He grinned slightly.

Ironhide shook his helm.

"Also," Jazz said. "I feel like I'm missing something." He looked at Orion. "Like ya aren't telling me something about the situation."

Once again, about half the mecha in the room shot uncomfortable covert glances at each other. Mainspring and Red Alert seemed confused, though. That was _really_ strange. The intelligence and security commanders were the ones who _didn't_ know this secret?

Orion nodded thoughtfully. "I am sorry, Jazz. But I have to ask you to refrain from investigating or asking further questions about my kidnapping and subsequent rescue."

That was going to be difficult. Now that he knew for sure there was some sort of secret, it would be hard to stop himself from trying to figure it out.

"I do trust you," Orion said. "And I would be willing to explain everything under other circumstances."

"What he means," Chromia said. "Is you're a spy. And if the Decepticons ever catch you, we don't want you to be able to tell them this particular secret."

Jazz pouted. He saw the point, though.

"Will you give me your word that you'll let this go and not look into it?" Orion said.

Oh well… "Of course," Jazz said. "Don't worry, I get it. So, uh… I was gonna try and figure out who the other kidnappers were. Do ya want me ta drop that too, or…"

"You can keep looking into that," Orion said. "That's fine."

"Okay," Jazz said. That meant it was probably something about Orion. Something that had helped them find and rescue him maybe? Or a secret about what Orion was doing in Polyhex? Something too dangerous for Jazz to know...

He should stop thinking about it.

"May we proceed to the matter at hand?" Prowl asked. "Elita said she had something to announce about Vos finally talking to us?"

"Yes," Orion said, nodding to Elita. "You received a message from them, correct?"

"I did," Elita said. "We've finally made it through to them and they want to meet with Orion as soon as possible. They've given us through the end of the orn."

Ironhide frowned. "But it's almost the off-cycle…"

"Not in Vos," Elita said. "There, it's the beginning of the orn—the sun's just come up."

That was true, Jazz realized. Vos was on the other side of the planet.

"We can't send Orion all the way to Vos!" Red Alert said. "He was already kidnapped _once_ this orn."

"He's not going," Ratchet agreed. "I'm not done with his repairs."

"We cannot miss this opportunity," Orion said. "I have to go."

"It's too dangerous!" Red Alert insisted. "Not to mention _suspicious_. They won't even _talk_ to us for decaorns and now suddenly they want to meet with you in person?"

"It's just a diplomatic meeting," Elita said. "I doubt there will be much danger…"

"Going to Polyhex wasn't supposed to be dangerous either," Ironhide countered.

"Does that _not_ seem suspicious to anyone else?" Red Alert demanded.

"I don't care whether or not it's dangerous!" Ratchet said. "He's not going anywhere with his arm like that! I have to finalize his repairs, and then he needs rest!"

"If I do not meet with them now, it is unlikely they'll ever speak with us again," Orion said.

Jazz listened to them argue for a few more astroseconds. Orion had a point, but so did Ratchet and Ironhide. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Red Alert's argument made sense too. He waited for a break in the talking so he could interject.

"Hey, mechs, I got an idea."

They all looked at him.

"Send someone else besides Orion."

There was an almost comical moment where they all considered that.

"Well…" Elita said. "I could go, myself. But they did ask specifically for Orion."

"He's indisposed," Jazz said. "And he can't go ta Vos looking like that—don't they care a lot about appearances?"

"If it's dangerous for me, then it's dangerous for you," Orion said, frowning at Elita.

"I know," she said. "But… does that really matter? I can go in your place, don't worry. You're hurt anyway, and a trip to Vos might not be pleasant for you, especially if we end up staying there a while."

"The Seekers may be offended if we don't send Orion himself," Mainspring said. "I do think Elita should go, but you might also want to send someone higher in the chain of command."

"I could bring Prowl," Elita said. "Or Ironhide."

"Prowl?" Chromia scoffed. " _That_ would make a good impression."

"Chromia, please," Elita shot a glare at her sister. "Besides, if I'm correct, Seekers and Praxians have a sort of kinship…"

"Well," Prowl said coldly. "Perhaps some of them do, but I am not particularly diplomatic. I don't get along with other Praxians either. Besides, I have a lot of work to do here."

" _And_ ," Ratchet said. "You all seem to have forgotten, but _he_ is also injured and nowhere near recovered."

"That is not the point," Prowl said. "This is a diplomatic meeting, as Elita has said, and I am perfectly capable of sitting in meetings."

This was about to devolve into a fight again. Jazz looked to Orion, who seemed thoughtful.

"Please," the Prime said. "We do not need to argue about this. I agree that the trip would be difficult for me, and I trust Elita to represent the Autobots to the leaders of Vos. However, I also agree that sending her alone could offend the seekers. Prowl and Ironhide, will you both accompany her and her team?"

Silence fell for a moment.

"I'll go," Ironhide said. "Of course. She'll need a bodyguard anyway."

Everyone looked at Prowl.

"I will go as well," he said. "Though I do think Chromia has a point."

Chromia smirked. "He admits it himself. Soon as he opens his lip plates, they'll throw you all out."

Elita shook her helm.

"I am sorry," Prowl said.

Orion sighed. "You are better at diplomacy than you give yourself credit for, my friend. But if you feel uncomfortable going, I am willing to reconsider my decision. I _can_ go myself, once Ratchet has finished repairing my shoulder… maybe I should."

A compliment and then a major guilt trip. Not fair. Jazz glanced at Prowl and saw a hint of shame on his faceplate before he hid it. "Of course I will go," he said.

Orion looked a little guilty too. "Then again, I can hardly ask you to go for me, especially since you are also injured…"

"I am fine," Prowl said coolly "My injury is not as recent as yours, and I am recovered enough that it won't be a problem."

"Thank you," Orion said.

"So," Elita said. "Now that that's settled, we should talk about what we're going to say to them when we get there."

* * *

Prowl finished writing up instructions for his brand new second-in-command, a young mech designated Hurricane. He didn't anticipate being gone very long—a few joors at the most, but he didn't want to leave the Autobots without a strategist again. Furthermore, he hadn't finished everything he'd wanted to do this orn, and he had a feeling that by the time he came back—which would be late in the off-cycle for Iacon—he would be too tired to get anything done. It frustrated him that he was still so weak.

There was an entry request, but Prowl hadn't heard anyone outside in the hall so he ignored it. He knew who that was, and if the mech had something important to say, he'd probably just let himself in. Sure enough, the door slid open on its own a moment later and Jazz stepped silently inside.

"Hey, Prowler," he said.

"Don't you have more important things to do?"

"Than bother ya? Not really."

Prowl glared at him. "Well, I need to leave in a few breems, so I can't talk to you."

"Ya're so hostile," Jazz said. "Ya might wanna work on that."

"I believe you've told me that before. I suppose now you'll try to convince me to play a board game or make some friends or something foolish like that. How many times do we have to have this conversation before you leave me alone?"

The other mech frowned at him, and Prowl felt bad for a moment. He was sure Jazz had good intentions, and he didn't actually _dislike_ the other mech, but it was a matter of pride now, and being far too busy for anything remotely social.

He was still surprised Optimus had called him a friend. He really hadn't done anything to merit that, but he supposed if anyone was his friend, it was Optimus. Maybe Mainspring too, though that was more like a friendly business association.

"I'm not here ta try ta convince ya ta do anything," Jazz said. "I just wanted ta say two things."

Prowl looked at him, but, of course, couldn't even try to read his expression behind the visor.

"First, don't listen ta Chromia about keeping your lip plates shut. Ya don't have ta talk ta the seekers if ya don't trust yourself ta be diplomatic, but if ya think of something that needs ta be said, comm. Elita and let her know. She won't get offended—she's got a pretty good opinion of ya, and she'll listen."

Prowl considered that, then nodded.

"Ya're not just there as an apology that Orion can't go."

Actually, Prowl was certain that was exactly why he was going. But if, as Jazz was suggesting, there _was_ something he could do to help this mission go smoothly, he would be glad to. "You said you wanted to say two things. Was that two?"

"Nah, that was just the first one. I might upgrade it ta three, though, cuz I thought of something else."

Prowl glared and Jazz smirked. He was doing this on purpose, just to be annoying. Prowl was almost sure of it.

"The second thing is that we're all onta you Prowler. Ya can keep trying ta pretend ta be a stuck-up glitch, but we can tell… some of us at least… that ya're not. You're like Ratchet."

"Excuse me?"

"Only ya don't throw wrenches, ya throw words ta try and keep everyone away."

Prowl hid his discomfort. "Was that the new thing you thought of, or one of the original ones?"

"The third thing is don't overdo it, mech. Ya've fooled pretty much everyone inta thinking ya're all better, but I know that kinda wound normally takes quartexes ta heal, so you ain't fooling me. Ratch is a miracle worker, but not _that_ much of a miracle worker. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Prowl tried very hard to stay annoyed. It took him a few astroseconds before he could muster enough of a scowl. "I am…"

"Oh, and a fourth thing," Jazz said. "I _will_ get ya ta play a board game with me. It's gonna happen one of these orns. Ya can't fight it forever, Prowler."

"That is not my designation," Prowl said and stood, careful not to wince as the ache in his spark intensified. "And now I _truly_ don't have time to talk any more."

"Okay," Jazz backed out of his office and walked away, and Prowl went to join Elita and her team. You couldn't groundbridge to Vos—they always had shielding up—but the Autobots had a few flying shuttles, and one of them was large enough for the trip. Flying all the way would take too long, so they'd have to open a large, double-ended bridge up in the atmosphere for the transport to go through. It would take a lot of energon, but it would be worth it if they could open correspondence with the seekers.

The eight mecha who were going—Prowl, Ironhide, Elita, Moonracer, and four other mecha in Elita's department—barely all fit in the elevator. Prowl agreed with Red Alert that this tower would be a nightmare to evacuate from. They could bridge out, but if the groundbridges were out of commission, they'd only be able to get one elevator load out at a time.

They got to the ground floor and made their way out to the front of the building where their shuttle was waiting, standing helm and shoulders over the rest of the traffic in the courtyard that connected the tower to the street.

"Good orn," she said, bowing slightly.

"Thank you for coming, Tradewind," Elita said.

"It's my pleasure." The shuttle transformed and opened her doors so they could board. Prowl was unreasonably nervous about this. The more he thought about it, the more unrealistic it seemed that Vos had suddenly been willing to meet with them. He knew Elita was persuasive and persistent, so maybe this development was a result of her diplomacy skills, but he couldn't help being suspicious.

"Ready?" Tradewind's voice said, altogether too cheerfully.

"Yes," Elita replied. "Let's go."

The shuttle took off more quickly than Prowl's recovering spark chamber liked, and he grabbed onto a handhold on the wall, wincing slightly.

He heard a bridge outside, and then felt it as they flew through. It took a few moments for all of his systems to re-calibrate to adjust to the difference in gravity and location, especially since the shuttle was turning.

He looked toward the front windows just as the city came into view in the distance. Prowl realized the images he'd seen simply didn't do it justice. No strings, no platform, just a vast, flat disk in the distance. And the closer they got, the more he realized just how _large_ Vos was.

Part of him didn't like the impossibility of it all, but a larger part appreciated its beauty. It wasn't surprising, he thought, that seekers considered themselves better than everyone else. You could live up here your entire life and never even wonder what life was like on the ground.

As they got closer, he started to see the detail. The entire city seemed to be made of tall spires connected by platforms and domes and an intricate network of roads There was so much empty atmosphere, and there didn't really seem to be an actual ground level. Prowl wondered how the edges of the circular city stayed up. There must be engines all over it, lifting it. The energon that must consume… unless the engines were somehow more efficient.

"We're getting a comm. from Vos," the shuttle said brightly, severing Prowl's train of thought.

"All right, can you connect us?"

"Of course!"

A loud voice came over the ship's comm. "Unauthorized ground-based shuttle, identify yourself and prepare to be boarded."

Prowl glanced at Elita, who frowned. "We are the embassy sent from the Autobots to meet with the leaders of Vos. I am Elita one and…"

"We hoped you'd take a hint," the voice cut her off. "The Autobots are beneath our notice, and your coming here without permission is a breach of our travel laws. Prepare to be boarded and arrested."

"We have an appointment," Elita said calmly. "We are here to represent the Autobots to the leaders of your city. You responded to our request and agreed to meet at this time. Please talk to your superiors to confirm what I'm saying."

Silence on the other end. Elita took a deep vent and shuttered her optics for a moment, looking nervous.

"Oh dear…" Tradewind said quietly, and Prowl felt the shuttle decelerate. "Elita, what would you like me to do?"

"Should we contact base?" a mech from Elita's department asked.

"Yes," Elita said. "Moonracer, let them know what's going on. Don't panic them, tell them we've hit a snag, but we should be able to talk our way through it."

Moonracer nodded.

"Unauthorized ground-based shuttle, prepare for boarding and arrest."

Prowl could see the group of seekers now, outside the windows of the shuttle.

"Elita?" Moonracer said.

Elita held up a hand to quiet her. "You are making a mistake. We have an appointment. Talk to…"

"Resistance will result in more severe measures and will be considered an act of war. Thank you, we'll be with you shortly."

Silence.

"They cut the comm." Tradewind said.

"I can't get through to base," Moonracer added.

Well, this was going well so far.

"Fantastic," Ironhide crossed his arms. "Now what."

They all looked to Elita, then followed her gaze as she looked at Prowl. Right. Elita was taking point, but he technically outranked everyone. He was already running through the possibilities. They could _not_ afford to do anything that the seekers would consider an act of war, so trying to run would be a very bad idea. Hopefully, if they cooperated, they would be able to explain themselves and convince the seekers that they were telling the truth. This was probably just a misunderstanding, but there was also a slight possibility that the Vos Council actually hadn't contacted them and asked them to come.

If the Vos Council hadn't contacted them...

"We need to talk to the others back at base," Prowl said. "We don't have enough information to understand what happened, but at this point, I doubt we can avoid being arrested."

"What if they're in league with the 'Cons?" Ironhide said. "This would be a great opportunity for them… if they kill you, Elita…. Or Prowl for that matter…"

Or Ironhide. And if all three of them offlined here...

"No, we're pretty sure they haven't settled anything with Megatron yet," Elita said, though she looked troubled.

"I don't think we should let them arrest us," Ironhide said.

"Resistance won't help us at this point," Prowl said. "Besides, if they were working with the Decepticons, they probably wouldn't have hailed us, they'd have simply attacked. We have to assume that the seekers are not currently our enemies. We should comply with them and try to get a message back to Iacon."

The shuttle changed trajectory slightly. "So, should I let them in?" Tradewind asked.

Prowl looked to Elita. She nodded. "Let them in."

The door opened and the shuttle filled with wind. Three seekers entered, all painted in the colors of Vos Enforcement. Prowl could see several more flying nearby.

"Keep the door open," one said, and Prowl recognized his voice as the one they'd heard over the comm. "And follow the escort to the landing station."

Prowl felt their trajectory change again.

Two of the seekers stayed by the open doorway while the other one pulled a pair of stasis cuffs out of subspace.

"May I speak with your superiors?" Elita said.

"I already did," the seeker said, and waved the other one forward. "We sent the Autobots no invitation to show up here."

Prowl's spark sank.

"So, one way or another, Elita One, you are lying to us, not to mention breaking the law."

"I can give you a copy of the transmission…"

"That won't be necessary at this point," the seeker said, and the mech with the stasis cuffs reached her. She allowed him to put them on her wrists, and the mech moved on to the next member of their group, pulling out another pair of cuffs. Ironhide looked as if he wanted to resist when it was his turn, but he didn't.

The mecha at base would know something was wrong, because of Elita and Ironhide and their bonds, but they wouldn't know what was wrong. And with this new revelation, it was even more important to contact them.

"We would like to talk to…" Elita tried again.

"Silence. You can talk to whoever they send to question you."

Prowl took a deep vent. It was now imperative that they leave and leave quickly. He was only glad that Orion hadn't come. Of course, offlining Elita would result in his death as well. "If it was not you who contacted us, it was likely the Decepticons impersonating the Vos Council. You should investigate that."

"I said no more talking," the seeker waved the guard at the door toward Prowl.

"The Decepticons must want us here for some reason. They may be—"

The third seeker rammed an energon prod into Prowl's side. He gasped and doubled over, and two of the seekers dragged his arms behind his back to stasis-cuff his wrists together.

He didn't resist, and when they released him he sank to his knees, optics shuttered. Apparently, energon prods and spark damage didn't mix. And it didn't help that his arms were pulled back at a painful, awkward angle. He didn't try to get up again, and only noticed when they landed because the small bump when Tradewind docked on the platform jarred through him like being hit by a mass transit.

He forced himself to his pedes and stepped toward the rest of the group in the hopes that it would discourage anyone from touching him. It didn't help. The seekers grabbed him and shoved him roughly out the door of the transport onto a windy platform connected to a flat, dome-shaped building.

They were led toward the dome. Prowl avoided everyone else's optics, and he was grateful when Ironhide moved to stand in between him and the seekers. They were taken inside the dome, marched down a long hallway and into a dimly-lit room full of small, cage-like cells. The seekers shoved them into individual cells, and Prowl let himself sink to his knees again.

"When it is convenient for us," the seeker in charge said. "You will be investigated, your identities will be verified, and if it turns out you really are who you say you are, we will contact Autobot to negotiate your deportment and return you to them." He turned and walked away, along with most of the other seekers. Two guards remained behind.

This was not good.

At least it didn't seem like the seekers were working _with_ the Decepticons, but if this misunderstanding had been Megatron's doing, then something terrible was surely about to happen. They'd attack somewhere, most likely. And once again, Prowl would be unable to help. Why hadn't they thought of this possibility before they'd left?

It was too late now.

He would fail the Autobots again.

* * *

Thundercracker alighted on an open platform, where fifteen or twenty seekers sat at tables, chatting quietly and sipping energon. He was pretty sure they'd be here—this was Andromeda's favorite spot.

Sure enough, he spotted her and Tealwing, sitting at a table on the other side of the platform. He almost started pushing through the crowd, then remembered he was in Vos, and leaped off the platform instead. He flew underneath it and came up on the other side.

Then, with no ceremony or introduction, he sat down at their table.

"Thundercracker!" Tealwing jumped up. "By the Allspark, where did you come from?"

He shrugged.

"Really, where the frag have you all been?" Tealwing demanded.

"Is everything all right?" Andromeda asked.

"Kaon," Thundercracker said. "And I don't really know."

"No sarcasm?" Andromeda tilted her helm to the side.

"Wow, something must really be wrong," Tealwing said. "Where's Starscream and Skywarp?"

"I don't know," Thundercracker said. "They sent me on some ridiculous mission halfway around the planet, but I found out they were coming here, so I came too. I don't know where they are, though."

"We haven't seen them," Andromeda said.

"What do you mean they sent you on a mission?"

Andromeda nodded. "That is a very good question."

"Sorry," Thundercracker said. He considered getting up again, but Andromeda must have sensed what he was about to do.

She put a hand on his. "Don't go," she said. "We haven't seen you for quartexes, and you can't just show up and leave without talking to us. What's wrong?"

Thundercracker wasn't sure what his brothers were planning, and he didn't know where they were. He ought to go looking for them, but really, what was the point? He had to assume they'd come here to do something they didn't want him to know about. And even if he found them and figured out what they were planning to do, he probably wouldn't be able to talk them out of it.

"Thundercracker?"

He looked down.

"What have you three been doing lately that requires going on missions and keeping secrets from each other?" Andromeda said, optics narrowed.

Thundercracker sighed. "I don't think I should talk about it, at least not here."

"That bad, huh?" Tealwing said. "You know, I told you mechs not to leave."

"Yeah, I remember that. You almost changed Starscream's mind."

"There's the sarcasm," Andromeda said, and got up. "Come on, let's go to my platform." The three of them flew off toward the center of Vos, where Andromeda lived. The one thing Thundercracker _did_ like about the ground was privacy. Seekers sacrificed it for open atmosphere. You had to talk quietly if you didn't want to be overheard, even in your own home. Only the domes and towers had roofs.

Andromeda's platform was small and well-kept. She had been sparked upper class so she lived in a nicer part of the city-state. Sometimes Thundercracker wondered how she'd ended up in his group of outcasts, but then he remembered she was far too friendly to be a proper nobleseeker.

"Okay," she said once they'd landed. "What's going on?"

"Well," Thundercracker said, "Have you been keeping up with politics much?"

"The war?" Tealwing said. "You three are involved in the war?"

"No, we joined the Crystal City Council," Thundercracker said.

"What side?" Tealwing asked.

"Of the Council?"

"Really," Tealwing said. "You know what I'm asking."

"The Decepticons," Thundercracker said.

Silence.

"Well, that's better than the other ones at least," Tealwing said. "The Autobots are just the Iacon Council's puppets."

Thundercracker shrugged. He wasn't so sure about that. "Yeah, but it's not good for Starscream. He's even more unstable than he was. And 'Warp's not doing that well either. If anything, both sides are in the wrong."

"I think that's the case with most wars," Andromeda said. "You can find good and evil on both sides."

Thundercracker sighed. "They're up to something," he said. "Something that has to do with Vos. Something they don't want to tell me. I'm worried Starscream's going to try to get revenge on the Vos Council somehow, for denying him his place in the Armada."

"Primus and Unicron," Tealwing rolled her optics. "That idiot. What exactly does he think he's going to do to get revenge on them?"

"If I knew I might be able to talk him out of it, but… I can't even talk to him at all. He just tells me to shut up and stop being insubordinate, and then sends me off to guard prisoners or fly around the city ten times."

"Well, fragging stand up for yourself," Tealwing said. "Tell him to shove it up his tailpipe and stop being stupid."

Thundercracker looked at Andromeda. Who shrugged as if to say 'she's got a point.'

"You're such a martyr," Tealwing continued. "Fine. Get Starscream over here and I'll yell at him _for_ you."

Thundercracker snorted. "I can stand up for myself," he said. "It's just different because he's an adviser to Megatron. He has the power to have me killed if he gets too angry with me."

Tealwing stared at him. "You're joking. He wouldn't do that. You're part of his trine."

Thundercracker shook his helm. "I don't know anymore. I mean, I doubt he'd kill me, but he might lock me up, and he's beyond reasoning with. Believe me."

"If you bring him here, we can try to talk to him." Andromeda said.

"Yeah," Tealwing said. "I mean, he doesn't listen to anyone, but sometimes I could talk sense into him."

"If I could find him, maybe I _would_ bring him here... but honestly I just wanted to stop in and talk for a breem. I don't know when I'll have another chance."

Silence fell.

Andromeda shook her helm sadly. "I really did hope that Starscream would mellow out when he got older. It's too bad."

"You and me both," Tealwing said. "Frag, I gave that mech so many chances…"

Thundercracker nodded. "Yeah. I wish they'd just let us into the Armada. Everything would be fine then. I… I should get back to looking for them. It was good to talk to you, though." He transformed and flew away. They called after him, but as much as he'd like to stay and catch up some more, he had to figure out what his trine brothers were up to.

* * *

"Something's happened," Chromia said. Jazz looked up from his datapad. They were still in the meeting room, waiting for Elita's team to report in.

"Something's happened?" Red Alert said. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Elita is not answering her comm." Orion said.

Jazz frowned at the worried expressions of the mecha around the room.

"I told you it was a trap!" Red Alert said "We should never have let them go!"

"It's not that _kind_ of something happening," Chromia said. "I think 'Hide would be more upset if it was some sort of trap. Maybe they're just having some trouble with the seekers…"

"We cannot rule out the possibility that they are in danger," Orion said. "Jazz, will you look at the communication we received from Vos and see if it might have been compromised in any way, or intercepted by the Decepticons.

"You got it," Jazz said. "I'll take a look and see if I can find anything."

He went over to Elita's computer terminal. Fortunately, she'd been talking to them over the system, not her personal comm. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to tell whether the communication had been intercepted, but he could try.

It only took a few breems for him to figure out that something about the message wasn't quite right and only a few more to figure out what it was.

He leaned back in his chair. The others in the room were talking quietly, trying to decide what to do. No one had come to any sort of conclusion.

"Hey, mechs," he said.

They turned to look at him and the room fell silent.

"So, in all outward appearance, it looks like that message we got was from Vos, but I traced back and I'm starting ta think it's not."

"What?" Red Alert demanded. "Where is it from?"

"It's hard ta tell for sure," Jazz said. "But my best guess is Kaon."

* * *

Unfortunately, stasis-cuffs prevented any sort of long-distance communication, as well as transformation and most mods. Prowl couldn't use his battle computer, nor could he try to explain any sort of plan to the others over a private comm. He had tried talking to the guards, explaining to them what must have happened, but they hadn't been very friendly. Elita had pled with them as well, but they hadn't listened.

They needed to get out and warn base that something might be happening with the Decepticons. He had thought of a few possibilities for what Megatron's plans might be and some of them could cause serious problems.

He heard Elita lean against the wall of her cell. "Any ideas?" she asked quietly.

"Some," Prowl said. "I don't want to wait to go through the normal legal system, though." The Decepticons were probably planning on that, and it would take far too long.

"No talking," One of the guards snapped.

"So..." Elita said, ignoring him.

"We need to get out of here," Ironhide finished for her.

"I said no talking," the guard hissed. "Don't make us come in there."

Prowl waited, nervous. If the guards opened his door, Ironhide could probably take them out and release everyone, but where would they go from there? They were at a major disadvantage in this city. Their transport had been left behind, and was probably being kept in a larger cell somewhere. There didn't seem to be any other way to leave this particular dome besides flying, and there was certainly no other way out of the city.

They hadn't thought about being trapped here. Had Red Alert said something about it? Probably, but he complained about everything that might be dangerous, so it was hard to know when to take him seriously.

"I'll talk if I fragging want to," Ironhide said.

The guard pulled an energon prod from subspace. "I said _silence,_ ground-pounder."

"Think you're scary, don't you?"

Both guards went over, presumably to teach him a lesson. Good. Prowl listened as they unlocked the door and then as Ironhide quickly and efficiently overpowered and knocked them out. It took barely an astrosecond before Prowl heard both of them hit the ground. That was a very satisfying noise.

He got to his pedes and stepped to the front of his cell, trying to see what was going on. Ironhide had managed to get the seekers' keys out of their subspace, and was working on getting his stasis-cuffs off.

"Don't let us out yet," Prowl said. "The only way we're getting out of here is if you can find the shuttle."

Ironhide got the stasis cuffs off. "Why not let you out and we can find her together?"

"One mech is less likely to be seen than if there were eight of us, and since you can take down guards so neatly, you have the best chance of getting through without letting anyone sound the alarm. Be quick, though, because if someone comes to check on us while you're gone, we will have trouble,"

"Right," Ironhide said.

"And leave the key with Elita, just in case."

Ironhide walked over and handed Elita a key through the bars and then left the room. Prowl only hoped he'd be able to find Tradewind and then come back for them in time. Maybe he should have sent Elita as well, and the two of them could have just left… but it would be harder for Ironhide to sneak with Elita in tow.

They waited in silence. Prowl could no longer hear Ironhide's footsteps.

A wave of exhaustion hit him, but he weathered it, fighting to stay focused despite his spark pain. He needed a better plan. "Elita," he said. "The most important thing is to get you to safety. We don't understand the whole situation here, but I can only assume the Decepticons are involved somehow. It would also be good to get me back to base, where I can direct a battle if need be. Your safety first, then getting me back to base…"

"Everyone's safety is important," Elita said.

"You're right." Prowl shuttered his optics. "My apologies."

There was a moment of silence

"Prowl, are you okay?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "Why?"

"Are you sure?"

No. "I'll manage."

They waited in silence a little longer.

Then his doorwings picked up the sound of steady pedesteps.

The pedesteps of multiple mecha. He took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, willing whoever it was to pass by the door without looking in. One set of pedesteps was louder, and the other two were quieter, which meant there was one large mech and two small ones. Ironhide and two seekers bringing him back to lock him up again? Prowl could only hope that wasn't the case.

The sound got louder.

"Someone's coming," Moonracer said.

And then there was only expectant quiet and the sound of mecha approaching. Prowl looked up so he could see the doorway, just in time for Megatron to walk into view.


	40. Vos

Elita's spark froze as Megatron stepped into the doorway, followed by two seekers. The warlord scowled as he surveyed the room. He seemed at once larger, more intimidating, and crueler than she remembered. Had he always been like this? Or had he had changed just as much as Orion since that fated orn when they'd appeared before the Council together?

"Where is Orion?" he growled.

This had been a trap, to catch Orion, hadn't it? It was a relief that he wasn't here… but Elita was. If they killed her, he would almost certainly die as well, so in a way, Megatron _had_ caught Orion, he just didn't know it.

"And the guards are dead," one of the seekers said. "No, just unconscious. Maybe the Prime escaped."

"And left his precious friends behind?" Megatron onlined his cannon, looking angry. "I said where is he!" He shot one of the unconscious guards in the helm.

"He didn't come with us," Elita said quickly. "What are you doing? Don't kill—"

Megatron shot the second guard, scowl deepening. "Coward. Letting his subordinates put themselves in danger for him," he shook his helm. "I always overestimate him. Well, now what, Starscream? Your plan has _already_ failed."

The lighter-colored seeker looked suddenly nervous. "My Lord, Megatron," he said. "We… uh… we don't necessarily _need_ the Prime. Just someone high enough in the chain of command to be well-known, and recognized…"

Elita met Megatron's red optics for a moment, horrified. He'd just offlined two helpless guards as if it was nothing.

He smirked at her, as if amused by her shock, and then turned away to look into the next cell over.

His optics widened. "You!" he hissed. "I thought you were dead."

Prowl. Primus, no… if he killed Prowl…

"Who is that?" Starscream asked.

"The assassin lied," Megatron growled, then vented a sigh. "I suppose you'll do, though. Get them all out of their cells."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Starscream went straight to Prowl's cell while the other seeker started at the end.

Prowl would do for what? What was Megatron planning?

Elita watched, as the tactician was dragged from his cell and thrown to the ground. He made no move to stand, which didn't bode well. Elita wondered if bringing him had been a mistake. He was obviously not as well-recovered as he claimed.

Eventually, he shifted and made as if to roll onto his side, but Megatron planted a pede on his upper back and pressed down hard. Prowl gasped and Elita winced in sympathy.

Megatron leaned farther forward. "You might be good at board games, but you're pretty pathetic when it comes to anything else, aren't you?"

"Leave him alone, you glitch," Moonracer growled.

Megatron turned to look at her, but didn't remove his pede from Prowl's back.

One of the seekers—the purple one—opened Elita's cell and pulled her out. She stepped away from him and stood, feeling like she ought to do something, but not sure exactly what.

"Fair warning," Megatron said, still looking at Moonracer. "You're all expendable except for him." He pointed his arm cannon down at Prowl. "And I am already in a bad mood, so I would think twice before opening your lip plates again." He removed his pede from Prowl's back and the tactician moaned softly. "Come," Megatron said, and turned to leave the way he'd come in.

The seekers had to drag Prowl to his pedes. The expression on his faceplate was shockingly calm, but he wouldn't meet Elita's optics, and he stumbled twice before they got to the door.

They definitely shouldn't have brought him.

Elita remembered suddenly that Ironhide was still out there. He might be able to help them. And then she remembered he'd given her a key.

She'd left it in the cell. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If she had that key she could maybe get the stasis cuffs off and… And then what? She was learning how to fight, but she probably couldn't take down two seekers, and she _definitely_ couldn't overpower Megatron.

They were led down a hall and crowded into a small room. The seekers dropped Prowl to the ground and then went to lock the door once everyone was inside.

"Sit down," Megatron said, waving his glowing arm cannon. Elita sat down near the door, and Moonracer followed her lead. The others sat as well, with two of Elita's mecha helping Prowl get to a kneeling position.

Elita shuttered her optics for a moment, trying to come up with a plan. Now that they weren't in the room with the cells, Ironhide probably wouldn't be able to find them, so she had to get everyone out on her own…

But what could they do? They were all stasis-cuffed, and the seekers and Megatron were armed. The door was locked so they couldn't run for it either.

If Megatron wanted to kill them, there would be no way to stop him.

Elita had never felt so helpless. When she had gone out on that battlefield, she'd been scared, but she'd been with both of her sisters, and they'd been in control of the situation. She glanced at Moonracer, who was glaring at Megatron in a way that could mean trouble. She tried to catch her sister's attention, hoping to silently encourage her to behave.

Megatron had offlined two unconscious guards. He probably wouldn't need much provocation before he started shooting the members of her party, and Elita didn't want to lose any of them.

"Here's how this is going to go," the seeker designated Starscream said. "First, you're going to send a message to your Prime, asking for his assistance."

Elita frowned. That… why would Megatron want them to do that?

"Of course, we don't want you giving the wrong impression of the situation, so we've written you a script, and we'll record it beforehand, so if you mess up, you can try again."

Elita had a bad feeling about this. She watched as they set a datapad in front of Prowl so he could read it. She wanted to know what it said, but she wasn't close enough. Prowl looked confused for an astrosecond, but then a light dawned in his optics and he looked up.

"No," he said simply.

"You will," Megatron said. "Or I will kill the rest of your associates one by one." He pointed his arm cannon at Dion, one of the mecha from Elita's department. Dion ducked his helm and looked at Prowl with wide, frightened optics. "You have three astroseconds. One…"

"Prowl, just read it," Elita said.

Prowl wouldn't look at her. "This asks them to send in the army. It would be an act of war."

"Two…"

That would do more than irritate the seekers—it would enrage them. The majority of them might even side with the Decepticons over something like that.

Megatron fired.

"No!" Elita said and tried to get up, but the purple seeker shoved her back down.

Moonracer's engine growled, but she didn't say anything.

Dion's lifeless frame scraped against the wall as he tipped sideways and slid to the ground. The femme sitting next to him, Harmony, started crying quietly.

"All right," Prowl said. "All right, I'll read it."

Elita shuttered her optics. Dead, he was dead. Primus, had that just happened? This had to be some sort of bad dream. She felt Orion reach out, felt his worry tainting the comfort he was trying to send her way.

She might be about to die. If she died, Orion would as well. She could only imagine the horror he would feel as her spark went out, how it would hurt him. At least they probably wouldn't be separated for long, but the Autobots would be doomed.

Prowl started reading from Starscream's datapad. His voice was as calm as ever—how could he be so calm? An unreasonable anger filled her emotional core, and she wasn't even sure if she was angry at Megatron for killing Dion, or Prowl for being so _calm_ about it.

Dion…

She tried not to look at him, but he was almost directly across from her, lying on his side, facing her. The damaged half of his helm was up, and energon oozed down what was left of his faceplate in thick rivulets. His one remaining optic stared in her direction, dark and empty.

She shuttered her optics, trying to banish the image, barely paying attention to the message Prowl read aloud. She got the gist of it, though. It claimed the seekers had allied themselves with the Decepticons and that Elita's team needed immediate troop support to help them escape. Because it was from Prowl, they would listen and do what he said.

It would be a terrible mess and they would probably never earn Vos's forgiveness, forget about trust.

And as soon as this was over, as soon as Prowl was finished talking, Megatron would probably kill them all. He didn't know it, but he would be killing Orion as well. They needed to find a way out of this before that happened, but she couldn't think of anything.

Prowl finished. Elita looked up.

Expectant silence stretched out as Starscream took the datapad back.

"Send the recording," Megatron said.

"Yes, milord," Starscream said.

They were all going to die.

"Done."

"Now," Megatron said. "While we wait for your friends to show up, I need you to make another recording."

The purple seeker snickered and Starscream sneered as he set the datapad back down in front of Prowl. "Just change it where it ought to have your designation instead of the Prime's," he said.

Elita watched again as the Praxian silently read over the datapad, but this time his calm mask broke, and his expression morphed to something like horror. "Primus beneath," he said. "You…" he looked up at Megatron with wide, shocked optics. "This is an empty threat. You couldn't really…"

Megatron's cannon fired up and he pointed it at Harmony, who was sitting in between Prowl and Dion. She was still weeping quietly. "Read it."

"Prowl," Elita said desperately. He had to do it. She couldn't watch anyone else die.

He finally met her optics and she could see the weight of this decision in them. He couldn't refuse without allowing Optimus to die, but he did _not_ want to read that message.

"You have three astroseconds. One…"

"All right," Prowl said. "Don't kill anyone else, I'll read it."

Megatron lowered the cannon, and Prowl started reading.

"Attention, Mecha of Vos." His voice was calm again, almost expressionless. "This is Autobot Commander Prowl. I speak to the Council of the city, as well as all seekers. We have attempted to communicate with you, but you have blatantly ignored all of our requests. This is unacceptable. We now demand that you cease all communications with the Decepticons and ally yourselves with the Autobots. You have ten breems to contact us and negotiate. If you fail to do so, we will bring your city down out of the sky. I repeat, cease…"

Elita gasped, cutting him off, then looked up and met Megatron's optics.

"The next person besides Prowl who makes a sound dies," he said. "Try again."

Prowl took a deep, shaky vent and started again. This time, the rest of the room was silent as he spoke.

It didn't even matter whether Megatron intended to make good on the threat. After this outrage, Vos would almost certainly side with the Decepticons.

Prowl got farther in the message this time, but messed up on what sounded like the last sentence. He looked up at Megatron, who glared at him.

"My apologies," Prowl said. "I'll try again."

Megatron raised his gun and aimed for Harmony. She screamed and ducked out of the way, crashing into Prowl as Megatron fired, missed, then fired again. Elita tried to look away, but she wasn't fast enough.

The room descended into silence again.

"No more mistakes," Megatron growled. "Elita's next." He pointed his cannon at her. She wanted to run, or hide, but she forced herself to be still long enough for the anger to catch up. He was killing her friends. He had killed two already—along with the thousands who'd died in Kaon, Tarn, Slaughter City, Tesarus... Why? There was no reason for his murders, no excuse, no explanation. She glared at him and he met her gaze and grinned, still pointing his weapon at her.

How had they misjudged this mech so badly? How had they ever thought he was good?

Prowl started reading again. Elita didn't look away from Megatron until the tactician was finished.

"Skywarp, go make sure our mecha are in place for the detonation," Megatron said. "And Starscream, prepare to broadcast that recording across the city as soon as the Autobot soldiers show up."

Detonation?

Primus beneath, he really _was_ going to destroy the city, wasn't he?

The seekers left. Elita looked at Prowl, hoping desperately that he had a plan. His helm was bowed, and Harmony's offline frame was still leaning against him, dripping energon on his shoulder.

He didn't look like a mech with a plan.

"Thank you, Prowl," Megatron said. "For your valuable contribution to the Decepticon cause. Regretfully, I no longer have need of your services." He raised his arm and pointed the gun at Prowl.

Prowl looked up. He was smiling.

Megatron looked surprised, just for a moment, and then a plasma blast hit him in the side of the helm. He roared and stumbled to the side. Elita turned around to see Ironhide standing in the doorway that the seekers had gone through.

Megatron pushed away from the wall and returned fire, but Ironhide was already in the room. He dodged and fired at Megatron again.

Megatron aimed his cannon at Prowl's helm and stillness returned.

"Ellie, you and the others get out of here," Ironhide said.

"No one goes anywhere," Megatron growled. "I might survive another shot from your cannon, but I doubt your little pet enforcer will fare so well."

Ironhide narrowed his optics. "Not if I shoot you in the faceplate, you won't."

Prowl shifted slightly. He was no longer smiling.

Ironhide fired, and Megatron did as well, dodging Ironhide's blast as he did so.

They charged at each other. Ironhide deflected Megatron's blade, but then tripped over Moonracer and hit the wall.

Elita didn't dare vent as Ironhide turned to fend of Megatron's next attack. "You're about to be surrounded," he said as he dodged, putting himself in between Prowl and Megatron. "There's Autobots swarming this place, and they know where we are."

Megatron raised an optic ridge. The side of his helm was all exposed wires and dripping energon, but he didn't even seem to notice. "Good," he said, then stepped out the door and shut it behind himself.

Elita looked to Prowl, suddenly worried, but Megatron's shot must have missed him, because he was still kneeling, looking up at Ironhide with a desperate, slightly dazed expression.

Ironhide went to the door. "Locked," he said. "Frag it."

"Ironhide," Prowl said. "We have to stop them. They're going to bring down the city."

"What?" Ironhide said.

There was a loud beep and then Prowl's voice was suddenly audible, repeating the message the Decepticons had recorded.

Ironhide's optics widened as it came to the part that threatened to sink the city. "What…" he said again.

The message ended.

"Ten breems," Prowl said. "We only have ten breems. That's not enough time…"

"There's no fragging way Megatron could sink Vos," Ironhide said, pulling a key out of subspace. "Elita, you left this."

"I'm sorry," she said, as Ironhide knelt in front of her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

She shook her helm.

"We have to get out of here," Prowl said.

The stasis cuffs fell from Elita's wrists, and Ironhide moved on to Moonracer. "I know," he said. "We're working on it. What the _pit_ is going on, by the way? All I know is you weren't in your cells, and then a bunch of our fliers showed up and Megatron was in here…"

Elita glanced back at her two offline friends, fighting back horror. She had to stay calm—this wasn't over yet.

"They set it up," Prowl said. "They forced us to contact the Autobots for help, and now they're going to destroy Vos and blame us, so the seekers will side with them."

"And you just went along with it? That was _your_ voice, Prowl."

Prowl nodded. "It was."

"Megatron was going to kill all of us," Moonracer said. "Elita was next. He didn't have a choice."

Ironhide shook his helm and moved on to release another of Elita's mecha. Moonracer got up and tried the door, but it was locked. Elita forced herself to her pedes, then watched as Ironhide released Prowl from his stasis cuffs and helped him up.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I'll live," Prowl said, and leaned heavily against the wall. "For at least ten more breems, that is. If we can't get that door open, then we'll go down with the city."

"Right," Ironhide said.

"Does that key work on this door?" Moonracer asked.

"Is there somewhere to insert or scan it?" Ironhide asked, walking over to join her.

"Just a keypad," Moonracer said. "Like we need a code or something. So... probably that key won't help."

"Here," he handed the key to Moonracer so she could free the last of the stasis-cuffed mecha, and she stepped out of the way as he rammed his shoulder into the door. It didn't seem to do much.

"Communications are still blocked," Prowl said. "Ironhide, do the other Autobots really know where we are?"

"No, I just said that to scare Megatron off," Ironhide said, "Though Tradewind's waiting for us, so we've got a way out once we get past this fragging door." He slammed into the door again.

Elita took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, trying to stay calm.

* * *

"We're getting a message from Vos!"

Orion looked over at Accord, who was running Elita's station. "Can I hear it? Perhaps we can talk to them and figure out what's gone wrong."

The mech nodded and turned back to his computer.

Something terrible had happened. Orion could still feel Elita's fear through the bond. None of them had been answering their comms, and the message Prowl had managed to send had been vague and not quite right. Orion still wondered if sending his soldiers in had been the right decision, but Elita, Prowl, and Ironhide were in danger.

"This is the Vos Council," a voice said. "We are not frightened by your empty threats, and we will communicate with whomever we please. Get your pitiful soldiers out of our airspace or we will kill them all."

Orion frowned.

"They've cut the comm. We can't reply," Accord said.

"Um… Prime, sir?" Said Hurricane, the mech Prowl had left in charge of his department. "Something's…" he trailed off, frowning.

"What?" Orion said.

"Well, a message was just broadcasted across all of Vos," Hurricane said. "It was Prowl, threatening to destroy the city if they didn't ally with the Autobots."

"What?" Red Alert said.

"No," Chromia said. "Even Prowl wouldn't…"

"Here, I got the message," Jazz said, sounding worried. "Something weird's going on here, mechs." He played the recording.

When it was over, the room fell silent for a moment

"Well, that's not good," Mainspring said.

"Yeah," Jazz said. "The 'Cons had ta have forced Prowl ta say that somehow. Chromia's right, there ain't no way he'd be that stupid. Frag, this'll alienate us from the seekers for good."

"Do you think Megatron could carry out this threat to bring down the city?" Orion asked, horror sinking deep into his core.

"I doubt it," Jazz said. "I don't know… pit, that would be really bad…"

"They wouldn't," Chromia said. "There's no way they'd do that. They want the seekers on their side, right? Not offline."

"Actually…" Hurricane said. "Um… the seekers can fly, right? So most of them probably won't offline if the city starts falling."

That was true. "Accord, send a message to Vos, explaining the situation, and also keep watching for Elita or the others to contact us." Orion said. "And Hurricane, call a retreat. We need them to know we don't intend to attack them." He was pretty certain that it was too late for any sort of diplomatic relationship with Vos, but he wanted to do as little damage as possible. He hoped Elita was all right. Her anxiety was mounting a little now, but she was alive, and seemed unharmed.

"So," Jazz said. "How are we gonna stop them from taking down Vos? According ta the message, we got about eight and a half breems."

"I don't think anyone in Vos is listening to us," Accord said.

"Keep trying," Orion told her. "Jazz, do you know anything about the layout of the city, or what the Decepticons would need to do to make it fall? Is there a way to stop it?"

"Uh…" Jazz said. "Let me get back to ya about that. We didn't think Vos would be attacked, so we didn't send anyone there ta scope it out."

"How long do you need?" Mainspring said. "We only have eight breems."

Orion could tell from the look on Jazz's faceplate that that wouldn't be long enough.

* * *

According to Thundercracker's internal timepiece, there was less than a breem before the Autobots were supposedly going to bring down the city.

He still hadn't found Starscream, but he was getting more and more worried about this situation. He certainly didn't think the Autobots would be stupid enough to make that sort of a threat. He also didn't think they'd be capable of carrying it out, but he was still very worried. Starscream and Skywarp were here, the Autobots were here…

He gave in and commed his trine brother, hoping against hope that Starscream would answer.

" _What do you want, I'm busy!"_

Perfect "I got a little sidetracked on my patrol…" Thudercracker said.

" _Don't tell me you're lost."_

"I'm in Vos."

Silence. _"What! What are you doing here? I mean…"_

"Do you have something to do with those threats the Autobot commander made?"

" _What? I don't know what you're talking about! Get back to your mission."_

"For a chronic liar, you aren't very good at it," Thundercracker said. "Where are you and what are you doing?"

" _Get out of Vos."_

"Starscream, you aren't going to help the Autobots sink the city, are you? You can't _do_ that!"

" _Don't question my authority! I am your trine leader."_

"You don't even deny it? Starscream…" There were only a few astroseconds left.

" _Did I say that? I never said that. The_ Autobots _are going to sink the city. I have nothing to do with it."_

"This is madness… Our city… _our_ mecha will die!" They had to be bluffing. This had to be some sort of trick.

" _Don't be ridiculous. Most of them will be able to fly out and escape. We're not even going to destroy all of the engines."_

Andromeda's platform was near one of the engines that kept the city-state aloft. She and Tealwing were in danger.

"Starscream, which—"

There was a brilliant flash of light and Thundercracker swerved and grabbed hold of a platform just before the shockwave hit. A wave of heat washed over him with what seemed like physical force and he was almost thrown free as the noise of the explosion almost overloaded his audios.

Then it was replaced by the tortured shrieking of bending metal and Thundercracker felt the platform beneath him shift.

Seekers screamed and flew past him, up toward the clear sky above, and Thundercracker understood.

The Autobots hadn't done this. This had been Megatron's plan. After this outrage, the citizens of Vos would certainly join the Decepticons and fight against Optimus. This was a strategy move, to turn more mecha in the world against each other. It was one of Starscream's favorite tricks to pull.

But it was so stupid—so wrong.

This wasn't the sort of thing you could fix. You couldn't put Vos back in the sky—it had been built before the Quintesson wars.

" _Thundercracker, where are you?"_

He didn't answer.

" _I need you to send me your coordinates right now!"_

Skywarp must have known about this too. How had Starscream convinced him to go along with it? Or had Thundercracker misjudged him as well? Were they both sparkless killers?

Thundercracker had killed too, in the battle for Tesarus. It had been easier than he'd expected it to be. Easier to kill, easier to forget about it afterward. He could still barely believe this was happening, but he could feel the platform sinking beneath his pedes, and he knew it was real.

There was nothing he could do to stop it.

* * *

Ironhide stepped back from the door, venting hard. He'd tried shooting at it, ramming into it, and typing in random strings of numbers in the keypad off to the side. The door was dented, scuffed, and burned, but still closed.

And they were running out of time.

He glanced back at Prowl, who stood leaning against the wall with his optics shuttered. Not helpful—of course, the mech was probably in a lot of pain, so Ironhide couldn't expect him to be helpful.

"Ironhide?" Elita said.

"How long do we have?"

Moonracer answered. "Five astroseconds."

Fantastic.

Ironhide backed up the length of the room and charged the door with a shout. He bounced off with a loud clang and nearly fell over. His helm rang unpleasantly, and his balance systems were glitching out, probably unhappy about him repeatedly crashing into the door.

It was dented more deeply now.

He had to get them out before it was too late. He backed up again.

"Ironhide, don't hurt yourself," Elita said.

If he didn't get her out and she died, then Orion would die too.

The ground shuddered beneath his pedes, and bright thunder split the atmosphere.

Too late.

Ironhide's spark sank. He felt Chromia respond with worry over their bond.

"Was that…" Elita whispered.

Suddenly, the floor buckled and tilted, and the sound of shrieking metal drowned out thought. Ironhide grabbed a pipe on the wall to keep from sliding across the floor, and shuttered his optics. The room was tilting, he could hear mecha screaming.

Then Elita's voice, breaking through the din.

"The door! Look!"

Ironhide raised his helm to see that the dented door had been further deformed by the twisting and tearing of the walls around it.

In fact, there was a narrow gap between the door and the wall. It was partway open.

Ironhide launched himself across the room, just as the floor tilted the other way. Once again, screeching metal filled his audios. He caught the door frame, though. He tried pulling it open, but it was stuck and didn't want to slide any further into the wall.

He wasn't going to give up, though.

The room was tilting farther now—the whole dome they were in was probably tilting. That was fine, for now. He could get more leverage that way.

As the room tilted past 45 degrees, Ironhide swung his pedes up into the crack in the door, gripped the frame with his hands, and pushed. Slowly—too slowly, the door bent open enough to get through. By now, everyone was standing on the wall.

"What the frag is going on?" Moonracer demanded.

Ironhide stuck his helm out into the hallway, which had become a long chute that led down to…

Clouds, sky, and the very, very distant ground below.

"This place," Prowl said through gritted denta. "It must have broken partway off from the rest of the city."

The whole room lurched downward, and several of Elita's remaining mecha screamed.

"Well, let's get the frag out of here before it breaks off the rest of the way!" Ironhide said, pushing back into the room. He dangled from the open door with one arm, and reached into subspace for a rope. "Tie this to something!"

He tossed it to Elita, who caught it and secured it to a pipe coming out of what had once been a wall, but was now almost at the right angle to be the floor.

Then he threw the other end of the rope out the door and reached down for Elita's hand. "We can climb down below the dome and hope Tradewind sees us."

Elita accepted his hand and clambered out the door. Ironhide helped Moonracer, and then the remaining two mecha from Elita's department.

Prowl came carefully toward him.

"You strong enough to climb?" Ironhide asked.

Prowl nodded.

"You sure? It's a long way down, and if you slip, you could take other mecha with you."

Prowl hesitated. "I know… but you can't carry me _and_ climb down yourself."

Ironhide sighed. "How about I'll go right below you and stop you if you fall. Good?"

"Good." Prowl let Ironhide pull him up to the warped doorway The Praxian's faceplate twisted in pain, but he gripped the rope tightly and nodded for Ironhide to go. Ironhide climbed out the door and started sliding down the rope, watching carefully as Prowl followed him.

He could feel that the whole building was sinking now, albeit slowly.

The whole city was sinking. Shrieking and groaning and sinking out of the sky.

Everything lurched again, and the rope swung wildly, then slammed them into the wall. Prowl cried out, and slipped down the rope, but managed to catch himself before he crashed into Ironhide.

"We lose anyone?" Ironhide called down.

"No," Elita replied from the bottom of the rope. "I'm almost to the doorway!"

Then there was one final lurch, and Ironhide's spark flew up into his throat as he felt the rope go slack. Wind whistled past him as he floated away from the wall. He heard someone scream below him.

They were in free fall.

The dome had broken off completely and was plummeting toward the ground.

"Don't let go of the rope!" Ironhide shouted, then ignored his own command, released the rope and pushed off the wall. He drifted up past Prowl, but was too far away to reach the rope again. He had to wait until he was close enough to push off the other wall.

Someone shouted something, but he couldn't hear over the rushing wind. He pushed off, grabbed the rope, and then pulled a knife from subspace and cut it loose so they could take it with them.

Then he pushed off again, herding the other mecha toward the exit below them. "Get out! Out of the building before it hits the ground!"

He wasn't sure if they could hear him, but they seemed to get the message. They would still probably die, but there was a chance…

He watched as Elita managed to get out, and then hauled on the rope, pulling the rest of them toward the exit too. He kept a tight grip as she pulled harder, and then all of them shot free of the building, and were floating in a long, twisting line in open atmosphere.

But everything was wrong. The wind was coming from the left, and the ground seemed to be in that direction too.

It was a lot less distant than it had been before.

He could feel Chromia panicking. Was he about to die? If so, he should break his bond with her so his death couldn't kill her too…

The rope spun him around and now all he could see was blue.

And a big shuttle floating with them…falling with them.

He could barely believe it.

Tradewind opened her doors. "Hurry!" she screamed, loud enough to hear over the rushing atmosphere.

Ironhide reached out as they drifted closer.

Just a little closer…

He grabbed the side of the door and heaved himself in, then reeled everyone else as quickly as he could.

"Hurry!" Tradewind shrieked again.

He pulled Elita in last. "We're in!" he said.

The door slammed shut, and a moment later, the shuttle flipped nauseatingly around and then the back of it rose up to meet them.

Ironhide hit on his side, crushed under the weight of several other mecha. Gravity came back with such force that he couldn't vent for several astroseconds.

Then it eased off, and the shuttle leveled out.

Ironhide tumbled forward, then got to his pedes, waiting for his balance systems to figure out which way was down again. "Everyone all right?" he asked.

Elita got up and then helped Moonracer to her pedes, while Ironhide went to check on Prowl, who was sprawled dramatically on the ground.

"Is he…" Elita said.

"Unconscious," Ironhide replied. "I think he's alive, though."

"What happened?" Tradewind asked. "There's… there's no way the Autobots set off those explosions, is there?"

"It was the Decepticons," Elita said bitterly. "Take us back up."

"No," Ironhide said. "We should go back to Iacon."

"We might be able to help, somehow," Elita said. "There could be other mecha trapped…"

Ironhide looked out the window at the city above. A huge black spire fell right past them and crashed on the ground below, and Ironhide shuddered as he realized just how close that ground was.

A few more astroseconds, and Tradewind wouldn't have been able to save them.

"We'd better… get out from under Vos," Tradewind said.

"The seekers are fine—they can fly," Ironhide said. "And there's a whole swarm of them up there who'd probably be happy to kill us if they find us. We're not going back up there."

"Is it even falling?" Moonracer asked, craning to look up at it out the window.

"It's falling slowly," Prowl said quietly, and Ironhide spun to see him getting to his knees. "They took that into account."

"What?" Moonracer said.

"Did you not see how _big_ Vos is?" Prowl snapped, then gasped and fell forward again.

"You lie down," Ironhide told him. "Tradewind, fly us out of here. I'm going to contact base and get us a groundbridge."

* * *

Starscream skimmed over the twisting, collapsing city, searching.

He'd heard the explosion through the comm. so he knew about how far away from it Thundercracker had been. And one of the explosions had been close to Andromeda's home, which was the most likely place to find him.

It was still a long shot, but Starscream felt lucky this orn.

Thundercracker wasn't answering his comm. which meant he was probably being stubborn. Most of the seekers had abandoned the city, but a handful of them had surely chosen to die with it. Thundercracker seemed almost stupid enough for that sort of thing, and Starscream could feel his resignation over the trine bond.

…There. A hint of dark blue among the silver spires.

Starscream flew directly down, comming the coordinates to Skywarp.

Thundercracker was going to owe him for this. The idiot should have just done what he was told. Starscream had been hoping he could use this to solidify his brother's loyalty to the Decepticon cause, but Thundercracker had ruined that now.

He was clinging to a platform, optics shuttered.

Starscream transformed, alighted next to him, and grabbed his wing. "Thundercracker!"

"Leave me alone!" Thundercracker said without un-shuttering his optics.

"Let go!" Starscream tried to pull him away, but Thundercracker kicked at him. "You're going to die, you fool!"

"You did this!" Thundercracker said.

Starscream slashed at his brother's back with his claws and Thundercracker finally let go of the pillar and turned around, glaring at him.

"Let's get out of here!" Starscream said.

"No! How could you do this!?"

"It wasn't me!" Starscream said. "Megatron insisted. _He's_ the one you should be mad at. He's the one we need to stop. We can do that together, Thundercracker!"

"How stupid do you think I am?" Thundercracker shouted. "I _know_ this was your idea!"

Starscream was running out of time. The city was going to hit the ground soon. If he couldn't convince Thundercracker to come...

It was tempting to abandon him. He would never be loyal now…

Then Skywarp came flying down to join them.

"What's going on?" he said.

Thundercracker bowed his helm.

"I won't leave you here to die," Starscream said, mostly for Skywarp's benefit.

"No," Thundercracker said. "Skywarp, were you in on it too? How could you do this? Our city…"

Starscream sent an internal comm. to Skywarp. _"We need to get him out of here. Help me grab him."_

" _Okay,"_ Skywarp said.

Starscream leaped at Thundercracker and grabbed him and Skywarp did so from the other side. Thundercracker struggled, but they slammed him into the pillar he'd been clinging to before, which stunned him long enough for Skywarp to activate his mod.

Starscream felt a sickening jolt, and then they were suddenly in open atmosphere, far above the falling city.

Thundercracker pushed away from them without a word, and Starscream let him go, then watched him transform and fly off in the direction of Kaon.

He and Skywarp transformed as well, and followed.

"What's up with him?" Skywarp said. "And what's he doing here?"

"He's blown a circuit or something," Starscream replied. "This whole thing has upset him terribly, and he's not in his right processor. Come on, let's get him back to base so we can calm him down."

"Okay," Skywarp said. "Did you hurt him, though? He was leaking."

"He attacked me!" Starscream said. "I didn't have a choice."

"Sure," Skywarp said sarcastically.

Beneath them, Vos hit the ground with a thunderous crash and Starscream felt something pierce him, as if a part of his spark was dying with the city.

But the pain faded quickly as he and Skywarp pursued their brother over the barren plains toward Kaon.


	41. Compelling Reasons

"The city's falling," Hurricane said quietly.

Orion bowed his helm.

He shouldn't be here.

He shouldn't be safe in this tower, listening as this tragedy unfolded.

There should be a way to fix this, to change it, to prevent it. Orion wished he could travel back in time and stop Elita and the others from going to Vos.

It had been another trap—if Jazz was correct about where that message had come from, they'd played right into Megatron's hands.

He could still feel Elita's fear. She was still there—perhaps trapped somewhere in the city, likely with Ironhide, Prowl, Moonracer, and the others.

If they died, the Autobots would lose.

If Elita died in Vos, Orion would die too.

The bond that had saved him from his kidnappers earlier that very orn would kill him.

"We're going to die," Red Alert said quietly. "We're all going to die." His voice increased in pitch with every word. "Everyone on this entire planet is going to die!"

"Excuse me?" Chromia said, rounding on him.

"The city," Red Alert said. "When the city hits the ground, it'll cause massive trauma to the internal workings of Cybertron, and huge quakes, and we're in a fragging _tower!_ We have to get out of here!"

"Does it really matter?" Chromia demanded. "This is it. It's over."

"No," Orion said. "It's not over yet."

He felt Elita's anxiety spike, and then there was a sort of sick sensation in his spark that was like floating and falling all at once.

Chromia met his optics. "Yeah," she said, voice trembling. "I think it is."

They were falling—falling with the city.

"Actually…" Jazz said. "The news is sayin' the city's not falling all that fast. I mean, it's tearing itself up as it goes, so there's pieces falling off, but the main mass of the city's still being supported by a few of the engines. They ain't gonna be able ta save it, and it'll still probably cause quakes, but there's no way we'd feel it all the way over here, and even if we _did_ it wouldn't be for a couple of—"

"Ironhide…" Chromia squeezed her optics shut. "…He's falling…"

Orion felt Elita apologize over their bond. She was terrified. Primus, this couldn't be happening. He didn't want her to die.

He didn't want to die.

"Optimus?" Ratchet said, and the horror in his voice told Orion that he understood.

"What?" Jazz said.

Suddenly, everything changed. Orion felt a moment of relief over the bond, then disorientation, then pain, then finally a sensation of stability.

Chromia let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, Primus…" she said.

"What?" Jazz said. "What happened?"

"He's all right," Chromia looked like she was trying not to cry.

Orion took in a deep vent, trying not to let his relief overwhelm him too. Most of the mecha here didn't know about his bond, and he had to keep it that way.

He glanced around the room. The mecha replacing Elita and Prowl looked frightened, Mainspring looked closer to horrified, and Red Alert was curled up in his chair, muttering to himself.

"My friends," Orion said, and they all turned to face him. "We can't let this turn into another Decepticon victory. We must tell the world what truly happened. We did not sink Vos, nor would we do something so reprehensible. You all must begin to spread the word. Tell your departments, our soldiers, the news, and anyone else you can think of that the Decepticons are responsible for this orn's tragedy."

"What if they don't believe us?" Accord asked.

Orion remembered something Yoketron had said to him once. "Wise mecha will see through Megatron's lies, and those are the mecha we want on our side."

He received a comm. and answered immediately. "Ironhide. Are you all right? Is everyone all right?"

The room went silent as everyone waited with Orion for Ironhide's answer.

" _Yes… I mean, no. Dion and a femme from Elita's department are offline, and Prowl probably ought to see a medic, but… other than that we're fine."_

Orion shuttered his optics, not sure how to respond.

" _And we need a bridge, as soon as you can get us one."_ He sent Orion a set of coordinates.

"Mainspring, they need a groundbridge to return to Iacon."

Mainspring nodded, and Orion forwarded him the coordinates.

"What's wrong?" Ratchet demanded.

"Two mecha from Elita's department are offline," Orion said.

"How?" Ratchet demanded.

"Who?" Accord whispered.

"We can ask them when they get here," Orion said. "For now, I would like all of you to spread the word…"

* * *

Vos was falling.

Prowl knew it wasn't his fault, but he had played a role in that fall. It had been Vos or Orion—that had been the choice. There hadn't been time for him to save both.

Someone knelt in front of him, and Prowl looked up to see Elita—hand extended, offering to help him to his pedes.

He took her hand and let her pull him up and guide him to one of the benches that lined the sides of the transport.

His doorwings picked up the sound of a groundbridge nearby, and a few moments later, he felt them go through it. He shuttered his optics and focused on venting regularly as the shuttle flew them down in a slow arc.

Just like Vos was sinking down toward the flat plains between Tarn and Doradus.

He accessed the public databases and started listening to the news. The city had picked up some speed now, and would hit the ground within two breems.

Prowl un-shuttered his optics, and saw that the shuttle was about to land out in front of Mirage's tower. He braced himself for when it touched down, but even the relatively gentle bump as it hit the ground hurt like pit. They exited the shuttle and headed into the tower in silence. Moonracer had an arm around Elita's shoulders, and Ironhide looked almost as shocked and defeated as the femmes did.

Even the short distance from where the shuttle had landed to the tower drained what energy Prowl had left, but he forced himself to walk it.

He deserved the pain. He was supposed to be smart enough to figure out how to get out of situations like that. He hadn't initially thought that the Decepticons would be capable of making good on their threat. He had assumed the engines that had kept the city afloat would be heavily guarded. But perhaps the seekers were too used to peace.

They made it to the elevator and Prowl leaned against the wall as it started going up. The feeling of acceleration as they ascended wasn't exactly pleasant.

"We should have brought their frames back," Elita whispered. "We just left them there…"

"We didn't have time," Moonracer's voice replied quietly.

Silence fell. Prowl wished this was over, but it wasn't. He had work to do. He'd gotten everything done before he'd left, hoping that he could come back and rest, but now there was this Vos fiasco to clean up.

Not everyone would think the Autobots had destroyed the city, but most of the world probably would. They had to get the truth out as quickly as possible. Elita would be the one to do that, but Prowl needed to stay online and alert in case they needed him for anything. It had been his voice, after all, that had delivered the ultimatum to the seekers.

The elevator stopped and Prowl flinched. He'd get some rest eventually, he promised himself. The doors opened, and half of the mecha in the main room rushed toward them as they stepped out of the elevator. Orion wrapped his arms around Elita, and Chromia stomped over to Ironhide. She looked as if she'd like to start yelling at him until he pulled her into a tight embrace as well. A femme in the room—someone from Elita's department—buried her faceplate in her hands with a quiet keen. The sound sent another wave of shame washing over Prowl. He should have found a way to prevent this—to save the city, to save those mecha from Elita's department... He had been trying to stall, hoping Ironhide would show up… but all he'd accomplished was to get more mecha offlined.

"By the Allspark, Prowl, you're covered in energon!" Ratchet said.

Orion and Elita backed away from each other and looked at him.

"None of it's mine," Prowl said. He didn't think he'd ever forget the weight of that dead femme leaning on him, or the feeling of her energon dripping down over his frame. He hadn't dared to look at her—he hadn't wanted to see.

Ratchet rushed over anyway, and started trying to scan him. Prowl backed away, but the medic grabbed his arm. Their optics met.

"Ratchet, may I talk to him first?" Orion asked.

Ratchet glared, but backed off just far enough to hover threateningly.

"Prowl."

"Optimus, I am so sorry," Prowl said. "I… it was either Vos or…" He couldn't explain, not with mecha here who didn't know Orion and Elita were bonded. He looked into the Prime's optics, hoping he understood.

"No," Orion said. "Do not apologize. I know you would not have done what you did if it wasn't necessary."

Prowl bowed his helm. Mecha would think he'd done it to save himself. In actuality, if it weren't for that bond, he might have refused Megatron's demands. He might have watched all of the others offline. It would have destroyed him, but he would have been willing to do it, because giving the seekers a reason to join the Decepticons was not an option.

"I am the one who should apologize," Orion continued. "You are still recovering from your injuries and I disregarded that when I sent you in my place. Please forgive me."

Prowl raised his helm again, surprised. "Orion," he said. "I am glad it was me. It's so much better this way. Imagine if it was your voice speaking those words they broadcasted in Vos."

The room went silent.

"I will want to know what happened," Orion said quietly, "But Elita can tell me. You should rest."

"I have work to…"

"Oh for Primus's sake," Ratchet closed the distance between them and scanned him again. "You can either come to my office or I will knock you out and drag you on."

Prowl didn't even have the energy to argue with him.

And he had to admit, being unconscious right now would be very nice.

* * *

" _Soundwave, we are returning to Kaon, victorious."_

I leaned back against the wall and subspaced the datapad I'd been writing on. I'd managed to get all the files off of it, but they didn't include much useful information. Nothing that I didn't already know. _"Acknowledged,"_ I said to Megatron over the comm.

Then I looked across the room into the high security cell that was currently occupied by the Autobot spy.

Mirage looked back at me, proud and unafraid. He'd been surprisingly good at keeping information from me. Of course, Jazz had given him some tips about that. I _had_ gotten some useful knowledge from his mind, but probably not enough to satisfy Megatron.

"You're running out of time," I told him.

"Oh?" he said. _I thought you said you had plenty of time to sit there and ask me questions so I could ignore them._

"Megatron is re-eturning," I said. "He has less patience."

I knew Mirage would understand. I hadn't touched him. He was stasis-cuffed, but unharmed so far. If I didn't get all the information he had, Megatron would let some of the mecha from Quantum have a try and that would be significantly less pleasant for him. I, of course, didn't plan on sticking around for that, so it wouldn't affect me much. But Mirage ought to have been worried.

His glare intensified and he started running through random, memorized lists of facts again. He did it to keep his processor occupied so he didn't accidentally think about any important Autobot secrets. Mirage, being who he was, knew many more Autobot secrets than he was supposed to.

I shrugged and got up. The Autobots wouldn't last long now anyway, with Vos turned against them and Orion offline.

This plan had troubled me at first, but I had accepted it eventually. The faster we destroyed the Autobots, the fewer mecha would have to die.

I still couldn't help wishing that Megatronus had been made Prime instead of Orion. He wouldn't be like this if he'd just gotten the title he deserved. His anger about that injustice was driving him to do things I knew he never would otherwise.

I checked the news. Vos had fallen and the world was in uproar. The Autobots were already trying to explain what had really happened—some of them must have escaped. Also, Prowl had been the one to threaten the city, not Orion. So apparently not everything had gone as planned.

Prowl wasn't even supposed to be alive, according to Blackangle's assassin.

I'd have to ask about that when Megatron returned.

I walked past the other high-security prisoner, who sat, as always, calm and silent. His optics followed me as I exited the room.

We were moving soon, into a place with more secure cells. Megatron wanted to call the building he'd chosen "Darkmount." For him, it was a pretty good name.

I went to wait in the command center. He returned presently, and then a few breems later, the seekers who'd gone with him came in. Starscream sent Skywarp to look for Thundercracker, though. Apparently, the third member of their trine had been in Vos and had figured out what was going on.

That was unfortunate.

"Soundwave," Megatron said. "It is time. Send a message for me, to the Vos Council."

I nodded, to signify that he could start talking and I would record.

"Seekers of Vos," Megatron said. "I am deeply sorry for the tragedy that you have suffered this orn. Even _I_ did not believe the Autobots capable of such evil. As their reason for attacking you had to do with our communications, I feel somewhat responsible for this great calamity. As such, I must offer you my aid. I will make accommodations for any of your mecha who wish to stay in Kaon. I can provide housing, energon, medical care, and anything else you might need, at no cost and with no strings attached. Please consider this gift as reparations for any part I may have unwittingly played in the sparkless destruction of your home."

I sent the message to all the members of the Vos Council, and it was less than five breems before we received an answer. I played it for him to hear.

"Thank you for your offer, Megatron," the Grand Councilmech's voice said. "We would be grateful to reside temporarily at Kaon. However, the assistance we truly require is not lodging, but revenge for the wrongs that have been committed against us. In the interest of destroying the Autobots, we will gladly make an alliance with you."

"You know," Blackangle said from the side of the room. "I almost didn't think this would work."

Megatron sat down on his throne, suddenly annoyed. "It's a good thing for Starscream that it _did_ work." He shot the seeker a glare. "We almost lost everything when the _wrong_ Autobots showed up. And it seems they escaped too… Ah, and Blackangle, your assassin was lying. Prowl is alive and well."

"What?" Blackangle said.

"I will leave it to you to punish him. Now go get some places ready for the seekers to stay. Spare no expense—they will be our honored guests. Clear the top three floors of all the skyscrapers for them, and let them into Darkmount as well, or wherever they want. We might need to send some of them to Tarn if it gets too crowded here."

 _Sends me off like some sort of errand mechling,_ Blackangle thought. _I will need to have words with Makeshift, though. If Prowl really isn't dead, that's one more thing I have to worry about after I get rid of Megatron._ He left the room, and my range.

"Now," Megatron said. "Has anything of note happened while I was away?" _Has Blackangle decided whether he's going to make his move yet?_

"I apprehended an Autobot spy," I said.

"Oh," Megatron said. "Who?"

"Mirage."

"Mirage… I remember him. The noblemech." He nodded. "Have you managed to extract any information from him?"

"Some," I said.

"Do you believe there is more he could tell us?"

I hesitated, then nodded.

"Now that I'm back, I need you to work on other things. Comm. Blackangle and tell him to have his mecha entertain our guest." _He should break easily—he's a spoiled sparkling. Though I'm surprised you didn't get everything from him already._

"Starscream," Megatron said. "I need you to help with the preparations for the seekers. Think of anything they might want, and make sure it's there for them."

"Gladly," Starscream bowed. "Though there's something else I need to deal with first."

"And what might that be?"

"Thundercracker is… well, he has gone missing." _I know where he is, but I need to go talk to him, and make sure he's not going to do anything stupid. I don't know what will happen now that he knows what we did. Why did he have to follow us to Vos?_

"Thundercracker? Didn't you already send Skywarp to look for him?"

"Well… I'd rather do it myself." _Come to think of it, I shouldn't have sent Skywarp. What if Thundercracker convinces that weak-minded fool to desert?_

"Your first priority is the seekers from Vos. I want to make a good impression on them."

"But…"

"Now!"

Starscream flinched, then sighed. "Of course, Lord Megatron."

He left.

"So," Megatron said to me. "What did you learn from Mirage?"

I handed him a datapad. I had already written up all of the information I had learned from him.

Well, most of it. I had omitted one thing. It seemed that Blaster was under the Autobots' protection, though they hadn't drafted him into service. I knew his location now, but I didn't want Megatron to recruit him either. It would be better for everyone if Blaster stayed out of this conflict. It would be better for everyone if Megatron didn't even find out Blaster existed.

He read all I'd written, then sighed. "There's not much here that we don't already know."

"No," I admitted.

"But you say you think he knows more? How was he withholding information from you?"

"He was distracting himself," I said. "Ignoring my questions. He even tu-urned his audios off for a while so he couldn't hear what I was asking."

Megatron nodded. "Perhaps you should attend his interrogation. I'm sure it would be more fruitful if you did." _I wonder what his reaction to that suggestion will be._

I desperately did not want to do that.

"I can see your reluctance," Megatron said. _I'm not really surprised. Nor am I particularly upset. I remember a time when that sort of thing would have bothered me too. But the question is, are you willing to do what I asked? And do you still feel a sense of loyalty to those you once considered friends?_ "Is it because you knew him personally, or just because you aren't used to watching anyone get hurt?"

I had a better excuse than that. "My abilities."

He studied me thoughtfully. "You would feel whatever he felt."

To some extent, yes. I nodded.

 _And it wouldn't make much sense to have Soundwave there if his range wasn't covering the spy. Very well._ "That is unfortunate. I suppose we'll have to hope Blackangle's mecha can get him to talk. If they can't I might have to ask you to make a sacrifice for the cause."

I looked down.

 _Of course, I don't want to lose his loyalty._ "But only if they fail. I have no desire to ask so much of you…"

I nodded.

"Then again, we all have to make sacrifices." He was feeling almost sentimental now. I could hear the Searchlight in him, for the first time in a while. "It is terrible, what we did in Vos. It will give us a great advantage, but there is always a cost." He took in a deep vent and stared directly at me. "That is why I will win this war. Because I am willing to pay that price and Orion is not. He never was. He thought he could change the Council instead of removing it. But the only thing that does is give them more time in power to kill your allies off one by one. The way of violence is messy and destructive… I suppose you could say it has already destroyed me. But it is the only effective way to fight the oppression, and I am willing to do anything in pursuit of that goal."

The absolute conviction behind his words brought me back to those orns, back in secondary school, when we'd been fighting bullies together. The stakes were higher now and so was the cost. And he wasn't the same. He was right—his chosen path was destroying him. But the mech he'd been before was still in there—the one who loved adventures and hated bullies and cared about his friends more than anything else.

He was still in there.

And Breeze had said there might be a way to bring him back.

"Soundwave, I am deeply honored to have you on my side, working with me. You are a better mech than the rest of us and yet, though you must understand the price we pay more than anyone, you are willing to pay it."

Sometimes he was so close—so close to noble, so close to sane, so close to Searchlight.

"And I trust you," Megatron said. "There is no one else here who I can trust. I could not do this without you."

I bowed my helm. I did not always agree with him, but I had failed him once, vorns ago, and I would not fail him again.

"Let me know if I ask you to do something you are not comfortable with," Megatron said. _I value your loyalty and I don't want to damage it._

I nodded.

The ground shook beneath my pedes, and I steadied myself against a desk until the quake passed.

Hundreds of klicks away, a city had hit the ground.

Megatron ignored the quake, putting thoughts of Vos's destruction from his processor. "Now," he said. "There is much to do. Blackangle—has he decided when to make his move?"

"Not yet," I said. "But soon. Once you capture I-Iacon, for certain."

Megatron nodded. "Keep an optic on him."

That might be difficult, since I didn't have optics.

"How about Thundercracker?" Megatron asked.

"It might be good to-o find him."

"Will you take care of that?"

I nodded.

"I also need you to monitor the Autobots' reaction to what happened in Vos. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to kill anyone important while I was there, so their command element is still intact, and I'm certain they will try to blame the fall of the city on us."

I nodded.

Megatron went back to reading the report I'd written up and I went to my computer. I'd go find Thundercracker as soon as possible. I was worried about him—almost as worried as Starscream was. I hoped I could convince him to stay loyal, because otherwise he might end up dead.

Part of me still questioned. Megatron was powerfully charismatic and in a way his words rang true. But I wasn't so sure about this "cost" of his. I hoped this war didn't go on too long, because it was no use saving the world if you destroyed it in the process.

I could only hope that Breeze figured out how to restore memories before it was too late.

* * *

Jazz shuttered his optics and tried to think of anything he'd forgotten. The last few joors had been busy for everyone. They'd put the real story out there. Some mecha believed the Autobots and some believed the Decepticons, but _everyone_ knew how serious this was. Vos had fallen—literally fallen from the sky. This wasn't just messing around anymore.

Of course, while Jazz _was_ keeping an optic on the public's reaction to the whole fiasco, he had other things to worry about.

Megatron had been in Vos, not Tesarus. And Soundwave hadn't been in either place. As soon as Jazz found that out, he'd gone back and read Mirage's report again. Aside from the obvious false information, there were subtle clues that the mech who'd written it wasn't actually Mirage, which meant that the noblemech was probably a Decepticon prisoner.

Jazz needed to rescue him as soon as possible, but he couldn't just try to sneak into the Decepticon base and hope for the best, like he wanted to. He needed a plan.

He had to get some other things done first anyway. Operating under the worst-case assumption that the Decepticons now knew everything that Mirage knew, he needed to change passwords and move things around. And it was frustrating because Jazz wasn't sure what Mirage knew or didn't know. It was hard to be certain of that when the noblemech could listen in on whatever he wanted.

Red Alert was helping with the security side of things, and Mainspring was working on plans for a rescue attempt, which would coincide with their plans for rescuing the Autobot soldiers…

But frag, that wouldn't be for a few more orns.

Mirage should be okay for a few orns, right? They had Soundwave, so there was no need to torture him for information.

Jazz shuttered his optics and realized how tired he was. Why did all of this have to happen in the middle of the fragging off-cycle? He should probably get some recharge, because he needed to be on top of things next orn. But not until he'd figured this out.

What else? What else had Mirage known?

Mainspring commed him and he answered immediately. "Hey, mech."

"I think your idea will work, though it's risky. I've talked to Hound about it and he says it's possible. But we'll need to plan a route for him, and another one for the Autobot prisoners."

"Okay." Jazz could ask Prowl to help with that.

"Hound will also need to meet with you prior to the mission," Mainspring said. "Of course, he would anyway."

"Yeah," Jazz said. "I should be able ta talk ta him early next orn."

"Good," Mainspring said. "I'll let him know."

Jazz cut the comm and looked up at the ceiling.

"Hang in there, 'Raj, we're coming," he said quietly, to the empty room.

* * *

Thundercracker had expected Starscream or Skywarp to hunt him down, but it was Soundwave who landed on the roof beside him.

The lanky mech sat down and silence stretched out until Thundercracker couldn't stand it anymore.

"I suppose you knew," he said, "About Vos?" He glanced over to see Soundwave nod, then looked out over Kaon again. "Doesn't that seem… wrong to you? They just tricked the seekers into joining the Decepticons, and destroyed a whole city-state. Mecha offlined.

He'd tried to contact Andromeda and Tealwing, but they hadn't answered. Andromeda lived close to one of the engines that had exploded. Close enough that she and Tealwing could have been killed by it.

"Starscream chose his path," Soundwave said in a flat, emotionless voice. "So did you. It's too late to turn around."

Thundercracker shook his helm. "No." It wasn't too late, was it? Was it? Could he leave now? He didn't want to abandon his trine, but Starscream had gone too far. He'd orchestrated the downfall of his own home, killed his own mecha. "They're completely insane." Surely Soundwave could see that. "How can you… How can you just ignore that?"

"You ca-an't leave," Soundwave said.

"What are you going to do to stop me?" Thundercracker said. "Kill me?"

Soundwave was quiet for a while. Then he shrugged. "There are worse things," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Soundwave stood and pointed toward the building off to the side of the base, where Shockwave's temporary lab was.

Shadowplay, and whatever else that mad scientist was working on. Thundercracker looked up at Soundwave's screen. He'd liked this mech. They'd been friends.

And now here Soundwave was, threatening to have him brainwashed. Had the mech always been like this, or had he just changed?

"I will know," Soundwave said. "If you try to leave or betray us." His voice was still flat and emotionless. "This is a warning."

Thudnercracker felt a chill down his back.

He had no doubt that Soundwave could make good on all of his threats. So he sighed and looked away. "Fine."

Soundwave transformed and flew off, leaving Thundercracker to think it over. He could fly away right now. Maybe they'd hunt him down, bring him back, kill him or worse. But maybe he'd be able to hide. If it weren't for his trine, he'd be gone already.

For now, he should stay, though. He should at least try to bring Skywarp with him if he was going to leave.

But where would he go? There was no home to return to anymore. He couldn't go back to Vos. He couldn't go to the Autobots—he doubted they'd take a former Decepticon in. He didn't know anyone else. In all likelihood, the seekers would be staying here now, in Kaon.

He didn't have anywhere else to go. And if he tried to tell anyone the truth… no, the other seekers wouldn't listen.

Maybe some time in the future, if there was a good opportunity, he'd run. He'd find somewhere to hide—somewhere safe from both sides. But right now, he only really had one option.

* * *

Elita watched the sun dome light up, marking the beginning of the on-cycle. Of course, from Mirage's tower, you could see the sun skimming around the horizon all orn long, only blocked occasionally by the other towers.

She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She'd barely had a spare moment since coming back from Vos. At this point, she was too exhausted to even grieve for her friends, and for that beautiful city.

She needed a break. She just wanted to recharge for a few joors. But in a few breems she'd have to go back inside and get working again.

Something moved beneath her, catching her attention. She looked down and saw that it was actually several somethings circling up the tower toward the top. They went out of view around the side, and she watched for them to come around again, suddenly worried.

When they came around the tower again, they were close enough she could tell they were seekers. She backed away from the edge, comming Ironhide as she did so.

" _Yeah?"_

"Seekers. There are five seekers approaching the tower!"

She was too late to run for the door. She could only watch, backing up against the glass windows of the tower as they came over the railing and transformed to land in front of her.

One stepped forward. "We want to talk to Optimus Prime," he said.

The door slammed open and Ironhide and several of Red Alert's security guards burst out, weapons ready to fire.

Elita could tell the seeker was afraid, but he took another step forward and to the side, moving to stand in between his companions and the Autobots.

It put him at an angle where Elita could see the insignia on his shoulder.

"Leave now," Ironhide growled.

One of the other seekers made as if to pull something from subspace, but the one in front held up a trembling hand to stop his friend and repeated his request. "We want to speak with the Prime."

"I'm sure you do." Ironhide raised his cannon.

"Wait!" Elita stepped forward.

"What are you doing?" Ironhide growled. "Elita, get inside."

"No," Elita said. "They're Autobots." She turned to face them. "You want to talk to Optimus?"

"I said get back inside! Now!"

"Yes." The seeker said softly.

"Why?"

"Why do you fragging think?" Ironhide said. More mecha were coming out onto the balcony, and the seekers were looking even more nervous. If she didn't do something, someone was going to start shooting, and this would end badly. That was the last thing they needed—dead seekers on the balcony of their base, or dead anyone.

No. No more death.

She rounded on Ironhide, fully aware that she was turning her back on a potential threat, but she'd seen something in that seeker's optics and she didn't think he was here to kill anyone. "Stand down!" she said.

"You can't…"

"I don't care who's higher on the chain of command, I will NOT let you shoot at mecha who have come here to talk until we've at least _talked_ to them. Put your guns AWAY! There's been _enough_ killing."

Ironhide glared at her. She sent him a private comm.

" _If they attack us, I'll apologize. But we can't have dead seekers here, not after what just happened in Vos."_

" _I'll put my guns away if you step away from them."_

" _I will hold you to your word."_ Elita replied.

She met his optics, then turned and backed away toward the window again. Ironhide lowered his guns and put them away, and he must have sent a comm. to the others because they did so as well.

"Thank you," Elita said, and turned to look at the seekers. "Now, why exactly do you want to talk to the Prime?"

They still looked nervous, and the mech in front was still trembling slightly. "We don't know who to believe," he said. "We wanted to talk to the Prime, to ask him personally…"

"But if you want us to leave," one of the others cut in, "We'll go join the rest of the seekers in Kaon."

"Elita, you've already walked into one trap in the past forty joors," Ironhide said.

She ignored him. "I assumed any seekers we had would have deserted."

"All but us," the seeker in charge said.

Seekers tended to go with the crowd, especially their own crowd. She had to admit, this seemed unlikely and suspicious. "Why didn't you go?"

"We want to do the right thing," he seemed a little steadier now. "We thought we'd made the right choice when we joined the Autobots. Even if we decide to leave we won't be joining the Decepticons." He shot a pointed look at the mech who'd spoken out, then turned his attention back to Elita. "You claim it was them who sank Vos and that they blamed you for it."

"Yes," Elita said.

Another one of the seekers spoke up. "We wanted to offer you a chance to convince us of that."

"You can't just show up here," Ironhide said.

"We tried going through the proper channels," the first seeker said. "But we didn't get very far."

"I apologize for that," Elita said. "We've all been incredibly busy." She held out a hand. "I am Elita One."

"Silverbolt," the seeker in front said, and shook Elita's hand cautiously.

"I am certain Optimus will be glad to speak with you." She released his hand. "However, if you attempt to harm him, mecha will be lining up to kill you and you'd better hope I'm not the closest one. Understand?"

Silverbolt looked more nervous again. But he nodded. "We aren't here to fight anyone. We just want to find out the truth."

"So far, you haven't been very welcoming," one of the others muttered

"Slingshot," Silverbolt hissed.

The other seeker glared, but didn't say anything else.

Elita commed Orion and waited for him to respond. He was probably in the middle of something.

"Wait here," she said. "I'll work something out, and Optimus will talk to you. Everyone else, inside."

"Thank you," Silverbolt said.

Elita walked past Ironhide and into the tower. Chromia approached her. "What are those seekers doing here?"

"They're Autobot seekers," Elita said. "They just want to talk."

Chromia looked just as skeptical as her sparkmate had been.

"It's all right," Elita said. "We'll have them come in here where they'll be outnumbered. And besides, I think I believe them. There's something honest about them." About Silverbolt, at least. He almost reminded her of Orion, in a way.

Orion finally answered her comm. and she explained the situation to him. He promised to be there in another few breems, so she went back out on the balcony and invited the seekers in. They didn't seem too happy about coming inside the tower, but they filed in and stood in tight formation just inside the door.

The rest of the room was quiet and everyone seemed on edge as they waited. Elita was unpleasantly reminded of the tension in that little room in Vos where Megatron had offlined two of her friends.

But then Orion came in. He looked almost as exhausted as he felt. She hoped that would help the seekers believe him.

Silverbolt stepped forward slightly and bowed. "Optimus Prime," he said.

"You wanted to talk to me," Orion said. "Please, feel free to speak."

Silverbolt looked down, then up again. "This past off-cycle, we were sent to Vos. We weren't told why. We fought our own mecha for several breems before we heard that message. And then we were told to retreat, but of course, we might have done that anyway at that point."

Elita could feel Orion's sorrow as he listened.

"And then we watched," Silverbolt said. "We watched our home fall from the sky."

Orion met his optics.

"We trusted you," Silverbolt said. "I had heard the rumors, but I didn't believe them. I was careful and checked my sources and looked for the things that you'd actually said, and had actually done. You wanted non-violence. You'd never attack, only defend. That's what I thought, at least. And I don't understand. I don't understand why you or the Decepticons or _anyone_ could do something like that, but I need to know. Optimus Prime, did you destroy my home?"

They stared at each other for an astrosecond, and then Orion knelt before the seeker, bowing his helm. "If I could have done anything to prevent what happened, I would have," he said. "Please believe me. If I had known what Megatron was planning, if I had been prepared… but I was not. As a Prime, protecting the mecha of Cybertron is my responsibility, and I have failed you and your city. I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but I can ask you to believe me. Neither I nor any of my commanders authorized the sinking of Vos, nor would we ever do such a thing, not for any reason."

Silence filled the room. Orion stayed on his knees.

"It was the Decepticons," Silverbolt said.

"It was the Decepticons," Orion replied. "The mech who made that threat _was_ Commander Prowl, but he was under duress, and we had nothing to do with the explosions themselves. I know that's little, if any, comfort…"

Silverbolt took in a deep vent and let it out in a huff. "I believe you," he said.

Orion stood again. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Avenge Vos," Slingshot said. "Destroy the Decepticons."

"No," Silverbolt said. "We… We still want to do the right thing, whatever that is. I can't speak for my friends, but I will stay with the Autobots."

Orion's optics were sad. "You may be fighting your own mecha before too long."

Silverbolt nodded. "I know. And like I said, I can't speak for my friends. But I'm... resigned to that."

Orion nodded. "Thank you. I am grateful that you came to talk to me."

"So am I," Silverbolt said. "Though I apologize for taking up your time. With your permission, we'll leave now."

Elita watched as the seekers walked back out the way they'd come. Silverbolt hesitated at the railing, but then vaulted over the edge, transformed, and flew away. The other four followed his lead.

"Well," Elita said, once they were gone. "I'm glad I didn't let Ironhide shoot them."

"I still don't think we should have let them do that," Ironhide said. "We can't just let mecha show up and demand to talk to Optimus."

"Under the circumstances, they had a right," Orion said. "And we don't have time to argue about it now—we all have work to do."

Yes, they needed to get back to work. Elita went to her station. She could put off recharge for a while longer.

* * *

Notes:

1\. I'll post a spare parts chapter about the aerialbots next Tuesday.

2\. Thanks for reading!


	42. Looking Back

Shockwave watched the spark in the jar. It had been out of its frame for ten breems now and it still hadn't imploded, which meant he could probably keep it alive indefinitely, separated from its frame. The question now was whether he could put it back. He had tried once before with another spark and had been unsuccessful.

His instruments recorded the pulse and strength of the isolated spark, which was sustained by the spark energy he had collected. He had to use the exact amount it needed. Too much and the spark would overload; not enough and the spark would die out.

Without the spark, the test subject's frame was completely inert, despite the fact that it was still in working condition. It was a marvel of medicine. So long as he kept spark energy feeds attached to the faceplate, spark chamber, and a few other living systems, he could do whatever he wanted to the rest of the frame without risking this mech's life. He could perform surgeries that would normally be fatal, or modify or repair the spark chamber itself. He could completely reformat this mech's frame, bring back mods and upgrades that had been impossible since the Quintesson wars.

But first he needed to make sure he could put the spark back successfully.

Slowly, he lowered the radiant, pulsating light toward the mechs' spark chamber, then increased the spark energy input by five percent as he opened the container. The spark sputtered fitfully, but he forced it into its place and trapped it there, waiting, still administering spark energy to keep it from going out.

Slowly the spark stabilized, and some of the subject's survival protocols activated. Shockwave set the jar aside and removed the spark energy feed. "Log entry twelve hundred five. Subject four hundred twenty four. Operation successful. Subject's spark was removed completely and suspended outside the spark chamber for a period of ten breems, then returned. Stabilized at twenty one astroseconds."

The next test would be to see if he could take a spark out of one frame and put it into another one. He also wanted to see if mecha retained access to their memories if their spark was temporarily removed and then replaced. He should probably wake this subject up and interview him.

Maybe not this subject, though. Maybe the next one. There was something else he needed to try and he didn't want to wait.

He had his machinery remove the mech's spark again. This time it was weaker, probably because of its recent trauma.

Shockwave took the jar and brought it away from the frame—as far as the cord feeding it spark energy would allow.

And then he set it down and went back to his control panel to shut off the energy. He watched from across the room. The spark flickered and sputtered. It grew, then shrank into a tiny speck of light. And then it disappeared in a flash that made the container shake.

Sparks often caused a small explosion when they went out. Not enough to do much to the reinforced glass of that container, but it usually severely damaged the spark chamber and core of the mech or femme who'd been offlined. That made spark chamber and core research very difficult.

Shockwave went over to the lifeless frame on the berth. He started removing the monitoring and spark support equipment, but left the chest and spark chamber open so he could see the empty place where the spark had been. Everything was perfectly intact. "Log entry twelve hundred six. Subject four hundred twenty four. Subject terminated. I removed the spark and allowed it to extinguish itself outside of the spark chamber in order to leave the spark chamber and core intact. Subject's frame will be retained for research purposes. End log entry." He could learn so much from this. He could learn to remove a mech's spark, reprogram their core, and put the spark back. He could do almost anything. He was on the brink. He was about to change the world of science and medicine.

But that would only be the beginning. That all-consuming desire to discover, to prove, to create, to understand, would never be fully satisfied.

* * *

Prowl sat in his office, looking over some reports estimating Megatron's current forces, trying to prepare for the next battle, whenever it happened. He was a little more on top of things than before, thanks to the handful of mecha he'd chosen for his team, but there was still plenty to do. Plenty to plan for, plenty to re-think. Now that the majority of the seekers had joined the Decepticons, he had to revise all of his strategies to take aerial assault into account. No matter what he did, he'd have to expect higher casualty rates.

Almost everyone else in the command element had stayed up all off-cycle, and they were recharging now. Ratchet had insisted they all get some rest—he'd apparently had to threaten to put Orion in stasis.

Of course, by that point, Prowl had been online again and available to take charge for a few joors while everyone else rested. Not too much had happened, though, since he didn't have to deal personally with the public fallout from Vos.

He probably _ought_ to have to deal with it. It was partly his fault that the city had been destroyed.

True, there hadn't been much of a choice, so he couldn't be too angry at himself, but… he wished he'd had time to think of a way out. Since waking up, he'd come up with a few plans that might have worked…

It didn't matter now. Vos had fallen and that couldn't be undone. Many mecha were angry with the Autobots about it—others believed the Autobots and were angry at the Decepticons. Prowl was sure there was a third, less vocal category who were simply afraid. It didn't really matter which side had done it—the fall of Vos had been an act of instigation. It meant there was no stopping the war now, not until justice had been meted out.

Jazz commed him over an external frequency. Prowl hesitated, then answered. He hoped this was something important.

" _Hey mech, I had a question."_

"What?"

" _Actually, two questions."_

"Go on."

" _Maybe three."_

"Limit of two," Prowl deadpanned. "And it'll drop to one if you don't start asking them already."

" _Okay, first, this is more of a request than a question, actually. Does that count?"_

"Would you stop that?"

" _Stop what?"_ Prowl could hear the laugh in his voice. He scowled. _"Sorry, mech, for real though. I found out when Megatron's gonna move all the prisoners from the Tesarus battle and such ta his new base, and I wanna try and rescue them all while they're in transit. I've got Mainspring looking over it too, but if ya've got time, it'd be nice ta have some help figuring out the best route ta get them out of Kaon."_

"How far in the future would you need this?" Prowl asked.

" _By next orn."_ Jazz said.

Prowl could probably manage that. He leaned back in his chair, then flinched. His spark hadn't stopped hurting since he'd returned from Vos, but at least when he sat still it wasn't too bad. "Send me what you have and I'll make some suggestions. If that's all, then…"

" _Hang on, I haven't asked any questions yet."_

"Your limit's one now."

" _Fine. Why did ya do what Megatron asked ya to in Vos?"_

Prowl blinked. He'd concocted an answer to that question in case it came up, but he hadn't expected Jazz to ask him.

He couldn't tell the truth. Jazz wasn't cleared to know about Optimus and Elita's bond.

" _I mean, I probably would have made the same choice, but…"_

"I did it to save myself," Prowl said. "I panicked when he started offlining Elita's mecha."

" _Ta save yourself? Nah, see, I don't think ya'd do that."_

"Excuse me?"

" _I remember one time ya risked your life ta save a wanted criminal."_

"That was before the Decepticons," Prowl said. "If I offline, we lose this war. Take Tesarus as an example of what happens when I'm not here." It was a slight stretching of the truth. He was fairly certain that if Orion's life hadn't been in danger, he would have made the other choice. From a tactical standpoint, the seekers joining the Decepticons was actually not quite as bad as losing Prowl. But there had been a very high likelihood of Megatron killing him anyway, even if he'd cooperated. So in the end, it would have been better for Prowl to refuse, and let Megatron kill their whole party.

But since killing Elita meant killing Orion…

As it was, trying to stall long enough for Ironhide to show up had been a risky gamble. But the alternative had been losing the Prime for certain, as well as Prowl's own life and possibly Ironhide's, which had about a ten percent chance of leading to Chromia's death. And then who would lead the Autobots? Red Alert? Jazz? Mainspring? Not that they weren't capable, but none of them were the kind of mecha others rallied around.

There was no way to win the war without Orion. It had been a painful choice, but not really a difficult one.

" _I still…"_

"Believe me, I simply acted in my own best interest, and you ought to be grateful for it because this army needs me."

Jazz was silent.

"Do you think I should have chosen differently?"

" _I don't know, mech,"_ Jazz said. _"Just it ain't real good, having all the seekers in Kaon now."_

"I suppose you're right," Prowl snapped. "I hadn't thought of that."

He cut the comm. before Jazz could answer, then gripped the edge of his desk hard, waiting out his own frustration and trying to vent slowly because the tension in his frame was making his spark hurt.

He would never forget that moment the city had started to fall. He would never forget the moment Megatron had murdered the femme sitting next to him. Prowl had intentionally made a mistake reading the datapad. He'd been trying to stall.

In many ways, her death was on his helm.

Just like the deaths of all the seekers who'd offlined in Vos.

And all the soldiers in the Slaughter City and Tesarus battles.

His datapad pinged and he checked it to see that Jazz had sent him a message with a file attached. He sighed, and opened the message.

[Sorry, mech, I didn't mean to offend you. I figured I was missing information about the situation somehow, but I shouldn't have pried. Any case, here's our plans for rescuing the Autobot prisoners. Let me know what you think. Thanks! –Jazz]

Prowl set it aside. He'd look at it later.

* * *

"We are prepared to fight now, Lord Megatron," the seeker was saying. "Let us storm Iacon this orn, before they're ready for us."

I listened carefully as Megatron considered how to answer.

 _We might be able to defeat the Autobots now, but I don't feel as if I truly have the loyalty of the seekers yet. As soon as Optimus Prime is dead, they will stop helping me._ "No," he said. "No doubt they are already ready for us. We can't afford to walk into a trap. Optimus Prime is devious and ruthless, and he is not a fool. Neither is his tactician. They must have had a back-up plan for if you refused to do as they asked. Instead of rushing into battle, let us be patient and wait for a good opportunity to strike."

The seekers weren't too happy about that. "Surely, we can overcome them," the head Councilmech said. "Even without us, you outnumber the Autobots. With us, you cannot lose."

"Do you know much of what happened when we tried to take Slaughter City?"

"No. I wasn't paying attention to your little squabble back then."

"Well," Megatron said. _I need to get rid of this one somehow. He's too used to being in charge._ "We had the Autobots cornered—surrounded. And suddenly the tides turned. The whole battle was a trap. Surely they will all suspect an attack. Surely they are prepared."

"So what do you propose we do?" the head Councilmech demanded. "We want _justice!_ "

The door opened and Blackangle slipped in and stood by the wall, watching the proceedings with interest.

"We must outmaneuver the Autobots," Megatron said. "The only way we'll stay ahead of them is if we continue to take them by surprise. My tactical team is already working on a plan, which we will put into motion within the decaorn."

The Councilmech scowled. _I suppose he has a point… if the Autobots are as dangerous as he says. But he's still underestimating the might of Vos…_

 _What is_ he _doing here?_ Megatron had noticed Blackangle standing by the side of the room. _Soundwave, go see what he wants and then report back to me._

I moved from my computer console and beckoned for Blackangle to follow me out into the hallway.

"Soundwave," Blackangle nodded, but he was seething inside. _Sends his pet drone to come talk to me. I'm supposed to be his fragging second in command, and I have important information for him, though I'm still not sure I believe it. I've seen a lot of things, but telepathy…?_

Frag.

Mirage had said something about Blaster.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I need to talk to Lord Megatron about the Autobot spy."

"He's busy."

"I can see that. But this might be very important."

"Tell me then."

"No," Blackangle scowled at me. _I won't let this mech try to take the credit. He's already Megatron's favorite for some unfathomable reason._

I hesitated.

He was determined to tell Megatron himself, which meant there was no way for me to hide Blaster's existence anymore.

But maybe I could convince Megatron to let me try to recruit him. The mechling was bound to end up on one side of this conflict or the other, and on this side I'd be able to protect him. If I could convince him to come with me, that was.

"So," Blackangle said. "Tell Megatron I need to talk to him as soon as he's got time."

I commed Megatron. _"Blackangle's mecha have obtained information from Mirage."_

Megatron took an astrosecond to respond. _"What information?"_

" _It's… complicated. You may wish to wait until you're finished meeting with the seekers, so we can discuss it. Blackangle has insisted on telling you himself."_

" _Very well,"_ Megatron said. _"Wait out there with him until I'm ready."_

I looked at Blackangle.

"What?" he demanded, arms crossed.

"Megatron will speak with you when he's finished with the seekers."

Blackangle nodded and leaned against the wall to wait. He mentally worked on his plans to overthrow Megatron while we stood together in the hallway, which was very amusing.

If he wasn't such a terrible mech, I'd feel sorry for him. The orn he moved against Megatron would likely be the orn he offlined.

We were waiting in the hall for quite a while before the doors opened and the seekers filed past us. Once they'd gone by, Blackangle led the way into the command center, and I followed.

"All right," Megatron glared at him. "What is it you want?"

"The Autobot spy told us something," Blackangle said. "Something I'm not sure I can believe, but apparently he seems certain about it."

Megatron gestured for him to continue.

"He says there's a… mechling under the Autobots' protection who can read minds."

Megatron stiffened. _What? Another telepath? Of course they'd want their own telepath, but… I thought you were the only one, Soundwave…_

"I know it sounds crazy—"

"Where did they find this mechling?" Megatron demanded.

Blackangle shrugged. "I don't know, but he's supposedly in Praxus now. The Autobots haven't recruited him, but are keeping an optic on him to make sure we don't find him? At least that's what the spy said. I'm not sure why they're worried about that, though. It's not like we're looking… Lord Megatron?"

"Did you get the mechling's exact location?"

"Yes," Blackangle said. "You're… I thought you'd be more skeptical about this."

"Whether or not the noblemech is telling the truth, this bears investigation. Pass on the information you've obtained to Soundwave so he can look into it." _If they're guarding this mechling, they must think we know about him. Soundwave, have you been keeping things from me?_

I didn't react.

"I can investigate it my—"

"No," Megatron said. "Leave."

Blackangle sighed. _I only have to put up with this for a little longer and then I'll be in charge._ He left the room and Megatron turned his attention toward me.

 _Explain._

I took in a deep vent. "There _is_ another telepath."

"You led me to believe you were the only one."

"Not intentionally," I said. "I didn't think a-about him as a potential resource. He's ju-ust a mechling."

"But you know him?" Megatron said. _We can't let the Autobots recruit him._ "Do you think he would trust you?"

I nodded hesitantly.

"But…?" Megatron said.

"He mi-ight not trust you."

Megatron scowled. _Well he's nothing but a danger to us if he won't join us._

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't argue with that.

Megatron was watching me carefully. _If you can talk him around, I'm willing to risk recruiting him, so long as you keep an optic on him. Otherwise we'll have to kill him._

I shook my helm.

"Well at the very least, we need to get him away from the Autobots."

I nodded. That was true.

And now that Megatron knew about him it was too dangerous for Keepsake and Cam to take care of him. I didn't want to risk their safety.

"Has Blackangle sent you Blaster's location yet?"

I checked my datapad to see that I'd received a message from him. I nodded.

 _Good._ Megatron thought. _Go find out if Mirage was telling the truth, and then I want you to take some of the seekers and fetch this mechling._

I nodded again, and left, heading toward the place where we kept the high security prisoners. When I got close, I shrank my range. I didn't know what state Mirage was in, and I didn't like the idea of being in his helm right now. I had already learned Blaster's location when I'd interrogated him right after capturing him. I didn't need to prove that he was telling the truth.

But to keep up appearances, I walked past the guards and stood in front of his cell. He was curled up on the ground, and without listening to his thoughts, I couldn't even tell if he was conscious. But when my shadow fell over him, he shifted and looked up at me. Aside from a few scrapes, his only visible injury was a deep, oozing crack in his faceplate, so I stretched my range out, curious.

It was a mistake. He ached all over, and his faceplate felt like it was on fire. Between that, exhaustion, and a sort of nauseated dread in his emotional core, he barely had the strength to glare at me. _What do you want?_

"Were you telling the truth about Blaster's location?" I asked.

He didn't move, though I could feel him trembling. _I thought I already let that slip… that's why I told them. I thought you already knew…_

"I didn't," I insisted.

 _But I could have sworn…_ A light of understanding dawned in his flickering optics. _I see. You conveniently forgot to tell Megatron, didn't you? Maybe you should think about why you feel you have to protect—_

I pulled my range back in and walked away. _"Mirage was telling the truth,"_ I said to Megatron over the comm.

" _Good,"_ Megatron replied. _"Now you know what you have to do."_

* * *

Jazz got a comm. from Blurr. He'd been sort of expecting it all orn, so he answered without delay.

"Hey, mech," he said. "'Cons show up?"

" _Yeah. A bunch of seekers,"_ Blurr said. _"Headed straight for the building."_

He had thought Soundwave would avoid passing on information about Blaster's whereabouts, but he hadn't been willing to risk it. He'd warned Blaster and his caretakers to move again, then left Blurr there to watch once the building was empty.

"Soon as they're all inside, ya can trip that little surprise we left for them," Jazz figured Orion would probably be disappointed if he killed them, so he'd set up a way to just knock them out and capture them.

" _Got it,"_ Blurr said.

Jazz waited.

" _Uh, what if not all of them go in the building?"_

"Better if they do, so they can't call for backup. How many stayed behind?"

" _Just one."_

"Ya think ya could shoot them from where ya are?"

" _Maybe,"_ Blurr said. _"The one that didn't go inside is on the roof now, in mech form… hmm… he doesn't actually look like a seeker…"_

"What's he look like?" If it was Megatron, he'd definitely have Blurr try to shoot him.

" _I think it might be Soundwave?"_

Oh. That was a different story.

" _I've never actually seen him before, but I've seen images of him… I bet I can hit him from here."_

"Nope. Forget it. Forget the surprise too, just get out of there _now_."

" _But he's the reason they caught Mirage, isn't he?"_

"Exactly. I don't want him ta catch you. If ya shoot him and miss, he'll find ya, and he'll come after ya, and there won't be anything I can do about it. Get outta there, mech. That's an order."

" _Okay,"_ Blurr said. He didn't sound too happy about it.

Jazz sighed. Soundwave was off-base right now which meant he could try to rescue Mirage… but he'd have to get into Kaon and all the way through the city-state to the Decepticon base, then sneak in, find 'Raj, break him out, and sneak out again, before Soundwave got back. If the telepath flew back to Kaon, then Jazz would have enough time. But if he groundbridged, which was more likely, there was no way Jazz would make it.

Too risky. His actual plan was pretty risky too, but if it was successful, it would accomplish more than just getting Mirage out.

Jazz could wait.

He hated it, but he _had_ to wait.

"So," he said to Blurr. "Keep talking, mech, I don't wanna lose track of ya. Where are ya?"

" _In the elevator heading to the first floor so I can drive back to the groundbridge station,"_ Blurr said.

"Good."

" _You're pretty scared of this Soundwave mech, aren't you?"_ Blurr said. _"I mean, I know he can supposedly read minds, but he didn't_ look _that scary."_

"Ya'd better hope ya never find out how scary he is," Jazz said. "He probably wouldn't kill ya, but as soon as he knows ya're there, there's not much point in running."

" _If he's here, that means he's not in Kaon. Could we try and get Mirage out, while he's here?"_

"I already thought of that, and I don't think we've got enough time."

" _I could—I don't know—get his attention and cause a distraction or something."_

"Mech, as soon as he got in range of ya, he'd know that ya were distracting him so I could go break 'Raj out."

" _Oh. Right."_

"Unless ya want me ta teach ya how ta erase your own memories."

" _Eh… I'll pass on that one… actually, it would be a good thing to know… actually, if it would help you get Mirage back..."_

"I do have a plan for that," Jazz said. "We'll get him out, don't worry."

" _Can I help?"_

Jazz considered that. He _did_ need another mech to help guide the prisoners safely out of Kaon, and if Blurr was going to volunteer… "Sure. Get back here, and I'll brief ya on it."

" _Thank you,"_ Blurr said.

Jazz was getting another comm, this one from Optimus. It was internal, so he could take it at the same time.

" _Hey, O.P. welcome back ta the land of the living. What can I do for ya?"_

" _Jazz,"_ Optimus said. _"I just learned that Mirage is a prisoner of the Decepticons."_

" _Yeah, we're pretty sure of that at this point."_ Jazz said.

Blurr spoke. " _Okay, I'm on the bottom floor and heading out of the building."_

"Good," Jazz replied.

Orion's voice came over the comm. next. " _Do you have a plan to recover him?"_ The worry was evident, even in the Prime's simulated voice.

" _Sure thing,"_ Jazz said. _"We'll have him back by the end of next orn if all goes well, and hopefully most of the mecha we left behind in Tesarus too."_

" _Thank you,"_ Orion said.

" _Ya didn't think I'd leave him there, did ya?"_

" _No, but I wanted to make sure rescuing him was a high priority."_

His words sparked a memory. Breeze had come and asked Jazz to hunt Wheeljack down to stop him from trying to kill Shockwave. It had completely slipped Jazz's processor. He had been so busy…

And he couldn't worry about it now, either.

" _I don't think anyone's following me,"_ Blurr said.

"Good. Come back ta base, then. Let me know if anything happens."

" _Got it."_

Jazz cut the comm. with Blurr and replied to Orion. _"Don't worry, boss 'bot. It is currently my top priority."_

* * *

Orion commed Master Yoketron. There were a lot of other mecha that he should probably talk to first, but he needed a break for a few breems.

His Circuit-Su instructor answered promptly. _"Good orn, Orion."_

" _Good orn, Master Yoketron,"_ Orion replied. _"I wanted to apologize for missing our scheduled appointment this orn."_

" _That is all right,"_ Yoketron said solemnly. _"I would have been surprised if you'd come."_

" _I will do my best to make it next orn."_

" _Thank you,"_ Yoketron said. _"I appreciate how seriously you take your training."_

Orion shuttered his optics.

" _Is there something else?"_

" _I… no. I just… there's a lot on my processor."_

" _I am at your disposal, Orion, if you would like to talk…"_

" _It can wait until next orn."_

" _Very well,"_ Yoketron said. _"I will expect to see you then."_

" _Thank you,"_ Orion said, and cut the comm.

He wished he could go this orn—to get away from the tower for a few joors if for no other reason.

There were so many things to think about—so many things had gone wrong last off-cycle—so many things could go wrong in the future. Jazz was planning to rescue all the prisoners taken in the Tesarus battle. The seekers were reportedly allied with the Decepticons now, which meant that Orion's forces would be even more outnumbered during the next battle.

He had felt almost confident the orn before. He'd thought he had finally figured out what he needed to do. He'd thought that he was going to get ahead of Megatron.

But now he was farther behind.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about Prowl's decision in Vos. He knew the tactician had done it to save Orion's life, but others had died—Harmony and Dion and hundreds of seekers...

He wondered what he would have done if it had been him in Prowl's place. It would have been so hard to watch Elita and her mecha offline. He would probably have tried to talk Megatron out of it. He would have begged and pleaded, but he didn't think he would have given the Decepticons that opportunity to destroy Vos and get away with it.

He would have died. He would like to believe that the Autobots could go on without him…

Yet he still had future responsibilities—things in the Covenant that had been foretold. And was it selfish of him to abandon that? Would it be selfish to allow himself to die and return to the Allspark, leaving his friends to fight this war that he had started?

He had to conclude that, all things considered, Prowl had probably made the right choice. But he wasn't sure if he'd have been strong enough to make that choice. Or maybe he wouldn't have been strong enough to make the other choice. Maybe he would have given in, and done as they asked so they'd stop killing. He had only felt an echo of what Elita had when she'd watched her mecha offline, and that had been terrible. He might have given in, just to stop them from dying, even though it would mean hundreds of other deaths and tens of thousands of seekers joining the Decepticons.

So, in a way, he was grateful he'd stayed behind. He was grateful he hadn't faced that terrible situation.

But he shouldn't be. Orion didn't know what he would have done, but it still should have been him. This should have been his burden to bear. He could still remember the expression on Prowl's faceplate when the other mech had explained why he was glad Orion hadn't gone. When the seekers thought of their city falling, it was Prowl's voice they would remember—Prowl's voice they would blame. Prowl knew that. He had almost certainly thought about it even before choosing to do what Megatron had asked.

Orion took in a deep vent and tried to shove his guilt aside so he could focus on his work. Some of the city-states he'd visited had contacted the Autobots to say they might back out of the agreement they'd made the orn before. He had to write back to each of them and assure them personally that the fall of Vos had not been his doing.

It might not be enough.

They might not believe him.

But he had to try, and hope that the truth would convince them.


	43. Rescue

Orion stepped into the crystal garden. He let out a slow deep vent, relaxing as the comfortable, familiar space sapped away the tension of the past few orns.

"Good orn, Orion," Yoketron said. "Please be seated."

Orion sat across from him.

"How is your shoulder?"

His shoulder?

Oh, yes, he'd been kidnapped right before Vos… "Much better," he said. "Back to normal."

"Good. How is Prowl?"

"Probably in his office, doing paperwork. I… I don't know, to be honest. I haven't spoken to him much."

"Hmm," Yoketron said. "I wonder if anyone's spoken to him since the tragedy in Vos. I can imagine him blaming himself for it. It might be good for you to reassure him that he has not, in fact, failed you as an adviser."

Orion looked down.

"Whether or not you agree with his decision there," Yoketron added.

"I don't know," Orion said.

Master Yoketron was silent.

"That's… that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm… I don't think I'm really strong enough to be the Prime. I've thought about it and… what Prowl did in Vos—I don't even know whether it was the right choice, but I couldn't have done it. I couldn't have chosen either way. I would have… I don't know what I would have done, but I'm afraid my decision in the end would not have been based on reason, or even morals. I'm not strong enough to lead an army. When push really comes to shove. I'm not strong enough to make hard decisions. I'm not saying it to belittle myself, it's just a fact."

Yoketron was silent.

"And on top of that, I'm ashamed that I let Prowl go in my place because he was injured worse than I was and I didn't even think about that. But at the same time, I'm glad because he kept a cool helm and got more mecha out alive than I probably would have, but then I'm ashamed that I'm glad, and I'm also conflicted because a part of me wonders whether Prowl made the right choice and if it had been me—If I would have been able to talk my way out of it somehow and maybe Vos wouldn't have fallen… And of course, that possibility just makes me feel worse for sending Prowl."

Yoketron was still silent, but Orion was done talking, so he let the quiet stretch out until the Circuit-Su master finally spoke.

"It is normal to feel inadequate, especially in a position such as yours. But remember that Primus doesn't need you to excel at everything. In this conflict you must be better than your best, but you cannot expect perfection from yourself or from anyone around you. You are not perfect. Prowl is not perfect. I don't even know if perfection is possible. I've been alive a very long time, and have spent centivorns trying to overcome my own character flaws, but I don't think I've even cured myself of a quarter of them. The bottom line is that you will make mistakes—Horrible mistakes with disastrous consequences. And you will need to accept that and keep moving forward. Perhaps you are not strong enough now. But some orn, Optimus Prime, you will be strong enough. The Matrix of Leadership is more than mere wisdom. If you are worthy and prepared, it will strengthen you."

Orion looked down. He'd never thought of it quite that way before. He had always dreaded receiving the Matrix. But if it could make him strong enough to lead his army… "It will change me," he said. "How can I be sure it will change me into what Cybertron needs?"

"Complete the trials," Yoketron said. "You must trust that your preparation will be enough."

Orion nodded.

"Now. Are you ready to begin your training for this orn, Orion?"

"Yes, Master Yoketron."

* * *

" _The prisoners are escaping! We need back-up!"_

I looked up at Megatron as we listened to the mech on the comm. Megatron scowled. _Soundwave,_ _look into this and find out what happened. I'll mobilize the seekers._

I nodded and started pulling up video feed from the route the prisoners were on as he got up and left the room. We didn't have very many cameras out in the city, but I managed to find them. They were heading down to the lower levels, which was smart, because seekers didn't like to go underground.

Not smart enough, though. They'd never make it out of the city with such a large group. They shouldn't have tried to escape. We'd probably have to kill a lot of them trying to get them back, but that wasn't the end of the world. If we offlined them, we'd have to find other mecha for Shockwave's experiments, but at least we wouldn't be wasting energon on so many prisoners.

I sent their current location to Megatron and anyone else who I thought might need to know, and tried to find some more cameras on the lower levels.

Then I saw who was leading the prisoners. Jazz. Jazz was here. I hesitated, then commed Megatron. _"Jazz is with the escaping prisoners,"_

It took him a moment to respond. _"Come meet me and the seekers. We need to capture him. I don't care if the rest of them escape, we_ must _capture Jazz, and you have the best chance of that."_

" _Acknowledged."_ I left my computer and hurried out of the building so I could transform and fly across the city-state.

It took a while to reach the prisoners, because there were places in the third level down where you couldn't quite fly, but I got there eventually. Seekers might not be as agile in tunnels as they were in open atmosphere, but they were still at an advantage. I watched as they fired mercilessly on the group of prisoners. The Autobots were unarmed and helpless and I started to wonder if _any_ of them would survive this.

Megatron probably didn't care either way.

I looked for Jazz and saw him standing by a narrow side passage, directing the other mecha down it. Again, a clever move, because the seekers wouldn't want to go in there, but once again it wouldn't be enough.

A seeker near me fell, probably hit by a shot that had ricocheted. This wasn't the best place for a battle, even a one-sided battle. I watched as the last of the Autobots entered the side passage, then waited for them to stop firing so I could swoop down to land among the offline prisoners on the ground. The seekers I flew past were starting to panic. More of them kept coming, making the cavern feel close and crowded, and they really didn't like being underground. I listened to the radio chatter, keeping my range close, but ready to stretch it out if I saw Jazz again.

" _Soundwave, check a map and see where that tunnel opens up. We'll ambush them there."_ Megatron said.

I checked a map. _"It's a dead end."_

Megatron transformed and landed in the clear space in front of the passageway, and I picked my way through the corpses to stand by him. I couldn't see anyone down there. Just darkness.

Megatron raised his arm cannon and fired down the passage. The shot illuminated the narrow tunnel and then disappeared into the distance.

"It's empty," Megatron said. "Are you sure it's a dead end?"

I nodded.

"Go down there and see." _If it's some sort of trap, you'll know before you get there._

I studied the narrow opening, then transformed and flew down it. I could only go so far before it narrowed further and I was forced to continue on pede.

I walked until I was halfway down the passage and then stretched out my range until I could hear Megatron and the seekers.

Where had the prisoners gone? How had they all gotten so far away, so quickly? They were out of my range.

" _They aren't here."_ I commed.

" _What?"_

I walked down toward the dead end, stretching out my range farther, but they were gone. Something strange was happening here. I got all the way to the dead end and found no one.

It was kind of creepy, actually.

I stretched my range out so far that I could hear the seekers, and then pulled it back in again and started walking the way I'd come, out of the tunnel. When I could, I transformed and flew back out of the side passage and landed in front of Megatron.

"Well?" he growled.

"There's no one anywhere ne-ear the tunnel."

I needed to get back to my computer where I had access to the video feeds. There was only so much I could do from here. I shrugged.

"Spread out!" Megatron said. "Find them! They can't have just disappeared!"

The seekers weren't too happy about that idea—they all wanted to go back to the surface. But they'd sworn loyalty to the Decepticons, and they _did_ like the idea of slaughtering some more Autobot prisoners. So they transformed and broke off into groups. I watched them go, then glanced back the way we'd come. Something about this was wrong. Something seemed wrong about the empty cavern too, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Are you sure that passage is a dead end?" Megatron demanded.

I nodded.

" _They're over here!"_ A seeker said over the open comm. and sent his coordinates. Megatron and I glanced at each other, then he transformed and I followed and flew behind him toward where the seekers were chasing the Autobots. They were ridiculously far away. How had they gotten so far so fast? I could imagine one mech managing that, if they had a fast alt mode, but even with depleted numbers there were more than a hundred of them, and some were probably injured. I could see they were headed for another narrow side passage. The seekers in front started shooting, but they didn't seem to hit much. I sped up and tried to fly through the crowd, but someone bumped into me and sent me spinning into the wall. I transformed before I hit, so I was just dented and a little shaken, but this wasn't going to work.

" _I can't get close enough. They're going to pull that trick again."_ I commed Megatron, and he told the seekers to stop so I could fly past them.

The Autobots were disappearing into the side passage, but this time Jazz stayed behind. I flew toward him as quickly as I could and stretched out my range until it reached him.

But it didn't reach him, even as I got closer. I threw my engines in reverse and slowed until I could transform, just paces away from him. I couldn't hear him.

I couldn't hear him. What was going on?

I couldn't hear the other Autobots either. Had I suddenly lost my abilities? No, I could still hear the seekers. They must have had a way to block… but that didn't make any sense. There was no way that all of these prisoners could suddenly block my abilities.

Jazz smirked.

" _What's going on?"_ Megatron demanded. _"You're just standing there! Capture him!"_

I shifted my hand to a gun and fired, but he dodged. I felt blind. I didn't know if I could beat him in a fight when I couldn't hear his thoughts. But I could probably keep him busy until Megatron reached us.

I charged forward, and Jazz ran away from me. It wasn't until I'd almost caught up with him that I realized.

Not only was his processor silent, I also couldn't hear him with my audios.

His pedes made no sound on the metallic floor.

Jazz was quiet, but not _that_ quiet.

He ducked into the passage the others had gone down, but by the time I got there, he had already disappeared into thin atmosphere.

Megatron transformed and landed behind me. "What?" he said. "They're gone again?"

"They were never here," I said.

"What?"

"Where are the dead?"

Megatron frowned at me.

There had been offline frames on the floor of that first cavern—Prisoners who had fallen to the seekers' shots.

But then once we'd moved on, the place had been empty. No frames, no energon on the ground. They weren't real.

"What are you talking about?" Megatron demanded.

"A hologram."

Megatron stared at me. _A hologram… like in Tarn._

That would have to be _some_ hologram. I nodded, though. I couldn't think of any other explanation. For a moment, I'd thought I'd lost the ability to hear Jazz's processor. _That_ had been frightening.

"There's a mech with a hologram mod," Megatron growled. "An Autobot. He must be here. _Find him!_ " _I'll get the seekers out of here so you can expand your range._

As much as I would like to do that, I'd just realized something else. I spoke over the comm. _"They lured us away from base by including Jazz in the hologram."_

Megatron considered that, thought process mirroring my own. _He's right. We've wasted so much time and the prisoners could be anywhere by now. Furthermore, with both Soundwave and myself away from base, anyone could sneak in._ "Never mind. The hologram mech doesn't matter. We'll find him if we can, but you should go back to base. Quickly."

* * *

Jazz dragged the unconscious guard into the landing at the top of a set of stairs and accessed his subspace, looking for keys. He'd needed to wait until they'd confirmed that Soundwave was elsewhere, so he didn't have much time.

He found the keys and hurried down the stairs to where the high security prisoners were kept. The door at the bottom of the stairs opened for him, and he paused, staring at the tall mech with high shoulders in the cell across the room.

Jazz recognized him, though they'd never met before. He frowned. "Ultra Magnus?"

The other mech narrowed his optics. "Who are you?"

"Everyone thinks ya're dead, mech," Jazz said and walked past him to look in the other cells until he found Mirage. Then he went through the keys, trying to match them to the door.

"I don't know who you are," Ultra Magnus said. "Or how you know my designation, but…"

"Shhh," Jazz said, and slipped a key into the lock of Mirage's cell. The door slid open and he ducked inside, taking the keys with him. The noblemech was curled up, apparently unconscious. He had dried energon on his faceplate from a painful-looking crack that ran all the way from the corner of his optic to his lip plates, but other than that there were just dents and scratches.

Jazz put a hand on his shoulder and Mirage came out of recharge with a gasp.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, 'Raj," Jazz said.

Mirage turned his helm to look up, optics unfocused. "Jazz?"

"Yep," Jazz said. "We're gonna get ya home, okay?" He helped Mirage sit up. "Can ya walk?"

Mirage hesitated, then nodded, "But I'll probably slow you down," he whispered, wincing. "And my mod's not working."

That wasn't good. Jazz had been counting on Mirage being able to turn invisible, not just to get out, but also to prove he wasn't Makeshift.

"Okay," Jazz said. "The other option is I could let Ultra Magnus out of his cell and he can carry you."

Mirage swayed and half shuttered his optics.

"Hey, 'Raj, focus, come on, mech."

"Sorry," Mirage muttered. "I…what did you say…"

Jazz shook his helm. "I'll take that as a yes, we're gonna have ta carry ya. Next question. Ya want me ta knock ya out until we get outta here, cuz I don't know how fun getting carried around is gonna be in your condition."

Mirage took in a deep vent.

"Mirage?"

"Okay," the noblemech said.

"Okay, knock ya out?"

He nodded.

Jazz pulled a gun from subspace and set it to stun. "I ain't a medic, so I gotta do it the uncivilized way. Brace yourself."

Mirage stiffened. Jazz triple checked that it was set to stun, then put the gun to Mirage's helm and pulled the trigger. Mirage gasped again, then relaxed into unconsciousness. Jazz caught him as he slumped forward and set him on the ground gently.

He was worried. While Mirage didn't have many external injuries, he was definitely not all right. Jazz was willing to bet, considering how lethargic the noblemech had been, that there'd been some heavy use of an energon prod. That wouldn't leave many marks, but it could do damage to your internals.

He should have come sooner. He'd hoped that 'Raj wouldn't be that badly hurt—they had Soundwave, what the frag did they need to torture anyone for?

Part of him wanted to go find Megatron, or whoever had done this and make them pay. But he knew that getting out of here was the priority right now. He needed to focus.

He went over to Magnus's cell. "Okay," he said. "I know ya don't know me, and we don't trust each other, but I need ta get this mech out of here, and you can come too, if ya carry him for me."

Ultra Magnus nodded. "Thank you."

"But don't even think about ditching us and running for it."

"You have my word. I will help you."

"Good enough." Of course Ultra Magnus could be Makeshift, but first they'd have had to get ahold of Magnus's frame, and Jazz honestly didn't think they'd go to that trouble. He unlocked Magnus and the larger mech went to pick Mirage up.

"Right," Jazz said. "You stay close behind me and we'll try ta get out of here as quick as possible. If we run inta anyone, let me handle it, okay?"

Ultra Magnus nodded.

This could go well, or it could go very badly. But Jazz wasn't leaving without Mirage. He took a deep vent, then opened the door and ducked out into the empty hallway, with Magnus following him.

They only ran into a few guards on the way, fortunately. Most of the Decepticons were probably out hunting for the escaped prisoners or moving things to the new base. As soon as they were off of the base, which was shielded from most communications, Jazz got word that the other prisoners had all escaped and were almost to the city limits. They'd be out of Kaon's groundbridge shielding, and ready for pick-up in ten breems or less. Jazz was relieved that that part of the plan had worked, but he wouldn't let his guard down until everyone was home free. He led Magnus through the lower levels of the city and out through a mining tunnel. He didn't stop, even after they'd left Kaon completely.

When they were far enough away from the city that he felt safe, he called a halt.

"Put him down," he said. "Sit him against the wall."

Ultra Magnus did so, and Jazz knelt next to Mirage and stasis-cuffed his wrists. He really, really, really didn't want to do this, but they had to be careful.

"What are you doing?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"Umm…" Jazz said. "I guess this ain't really sensitive info, so I can tell ya. The 'Cons have a mechformer, so 'Raj is gonna need ta prove who he really is. I should make ya prove yourself too, except I don't know what questions ta ask, and ya didn't betray us yet. I figure I just won't let ya on base until we know who ya really are."

Jazz started checking Mirage over for severe injuries, or any sort of tracker or listening device. He was pretty sure they weren't tracking him because no one had shown up to try and take him back. Hopefully, they hadn't been expecting him to be rescued.

It had been long enough that he could regain consciousness at any time. Jazz could wait until then. In the meantime, he commed Mainspring.

"Hey, mech, did they all make it home?"

" _They did."_

"Even Hound?"

" _Yes. They're all safe, back in Iacon,"_ Mainspring said. _"Were you successful?"_

"Yep," Jazz said. "I mean, unless he's Makeshift, but I'm pretty sure he's not. I want ya ta be ready, though, cuz soon as I'm all the way sure he's himself, I'll be asking for a bridge for him."

" _How is he?"_

"He's seen better orns, but he'll live."

" _All right,"_ Mainspring said. _"We'll be ready."_

"I'll want ya ta bridge him in through his private bridge," Jazz said. "So we don't have ta go through the station or waste energon in a two way one."

" _Will do."_

"Thanks." Jazz cut the comm. He'd been worried about Hound. The former primary school teacher had the most dangerous part in the plan.

Jazz heard Mirage's systems booting up, and turned to watch carefully. Mirage's optics lit up after a moment, and his helm, which had been tilted to the side a little, straightened. Then he looked down at his stasis-cuffed hands and back up at Jazz, optics questioning.

"I'm sorry," Jazz said, and reached into subspace. "We gotta be careful. I'll need ya ta answer some questions for me ta make sure ya're you, then we'll lose the cuffs and send ya home, okay?"

He could see Mirage thinking through that.

The mech's optics were too dim—he probably needed fuel. Jazz pulled out a cube of energon. "Here." He lifted it up toward Mirage's faceplate, but Mirage gave him an offended, reproachful look and turned his helm away. That look said clearly that he wasn't about to put up with any more indignity, even if it meant refueling.

Well, this was definitely Mirage. It'd be hard to know him well enough to fake that look. Jazz held the other mech's reproachful gaze for a moment, then set the cube down. "Okay," he said, and got the key to the stasis cuffs. "Fine." He certainly wasn't going to force-feed the mech, but Mirage needed energon.

He took the stasis cuffs off and handed Mirage the cube. The noblemech took it and downed about half of it, then lifted his free hand up to finger the crack in his faceplate.

"Ya okay, mech?"

"Fine," Mirage said stiffly, and drank the rest of the energon before setting the cube down on the ground.

"Can I put these back on? It's the easiest way ta block communications." Jazz held up the stasis-cuffs.

"Well, I'm not going to stop you," Mirage said. "As if I could."

"Nice ta see ya still got your attitude."

"Shut up."

Jazz stasis-cuffed him. "Okay, ready?" he said. "I got a good one. Five orns ago, we were sitting in the main room at your tower, talking."

Mirage nodded slightly.

"And Blurr was at the table two tables down. Who was he talking to?"

"Ah…" Mirage said, then got a thoughtful look on his faceplate like he was checking his memory files. It was a good question because it was random, specific, and didn't have anything confidential in the answer. The 'Cons probably wouldn't have asked him anything like that, so if this was Makeshift, there was almost no way he'd know. "It was… that femme from the communications department, Harmony."

Jazz suddenly remembered she was offline now.

"What?" Mirage said, seeming to notice the change in Jazz's expression. "Did I get it wrong? I'm certain it was her."

"It's not that," Jazz said. "Ya got it right. Just a lotta stuff happened while ya were gone."

Mirage stared at him.

"Your turn," Jazz took the stasis cuffs off of Mirage, and handed them to him. "Put these on me and ask me a question." Jazz wasn't really comfortable with that, but it was only fair.

"What… happened while I was gone?"

"It's a long story," Jazz said. "We need ta get ya home. Ya trust that I'm not Makeshift, or ya want me ta prove it somehow?"

Mirage frowned down at the stasis cuffs he was holding. "Just…" he looked around the cavern. "See that big spot of rust on the wall over there?"

Jazz followed his gaze. "Yeah?"

"Put a knife in it from here. Makeshift could never throw very well."

Jazz stood and unsubspaced a knife. He judged the distance carefully and tossed it.

It hit the center of the rust spot and stuck deep in the wall. "Good enough?"

Mirage nodded.

"Okay, we can send ya home now if ya want…"

"Wait," Mirage said, and put a trembling hand to his injured faceplate again. "Jazz…" he glanced at Magnus, and sent Jazz an internal comm. _"Did the Decepticons come for Blaster?"_

Jazz subspaced the stasis cuffs as he answered. _"Blaster's fine, don't worry. I tried ta account for everything ya knew and move stuff around. Soundwave sent me a couple of fake little messages with fake info in them, but as soon as I found out Megatron was in Vos, not Tesarus, I figured it out. Ya're all good, mech, whatever they found out, it's fine."_

" _There's more I should tell you. Shockwave is on the next stage of his experiments. He can harvest spark energy without killing mecha."_

More bad news.

" _I couldn't do anything about the prisoners, though."_

" _Don't worry about that either. We used an escape attempt as a distraction so I could go in and get you out. And the escape attempt was real successful. They're all free."_

Mirage looked relieved for a moment, and then upset again. _"There are… other things I told them…"_

" _Yeah, I got a question about that. Why the pit didn't they just have Soundwave interrogate ya? Who did this anyway?"_ It was the wrong time for that question, especially since Jazz couldn't keep the anger out of his simulated voice.

Mirage looked down. _"Some mech. I don't know. I… It was just Soundwave at first, and I did my best to keep as much important information from him as I could, but then he left…"_

"Hey," Jazz said out loud. "Actually, let's just get ya home and talk about this later." He commed Mainspring. "We're ready for that bridge, mech," he said.

" _It's coming,"_ Mainspring replied.

Mirage scowled. "I suppose there'll be a welcoming committee," he said, then winced.

"Probably," Jazz said. "And Ratchet'll have a fit when he sees ya, but there's no getting around that."

Mirage took in a shaky vent, optics shuttered.

"Mech?"

The bridge opened.

Mirage put his faceplate in his hands, trembling.

"Hey," Jazz reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay." He said quietly. "It's over, and ya're gonna be fine. Everything's fine."

It took Mirage another couple of astroseconds, but, with what looked like a lot of effort, he mastered himself and put his hands down. A bead of fresh energon had leaked from the crack in his faceplate and was working its way down toward his chin.

"Ya good?"

Mirage nodded.

Jazz got up and reached down to help him to his pedes, but the noblemech ignored that and just braced himself against the wall as he stood. He walked to the groundbridge and through it without looking back.

Mainspring spoke over the comm. _"He's here. Should I send you through the groundbridge station, or do you want a two-way bridge to the tower?"_

"Just send me the normal way," Jazz said, jogging over to where his knife was embedded in the wall. "That'd be fine. Oh, also, tell the boss that I've got Ultra Magnus with me. He's not dead. The 'Cons had him—I'm sure there's a story ta that. I need a way ta prove it's him for sure, though, before I bring him ta base. I'll just take him somewhere in the city for now. Mirage checks out—he's not Makeshift. I already made sure, so don't worry about him."

" _Good,"_ Mainspring said. _"I'll let Optimus know about Ultra Magnus. He'll probably want to speak with him."_

"Also…" Jazz gripped the knife handle and pulled, scowling as the blade refused to come free. "Uh, maybe after Ratchet's done with him, ya could talk ta Mirage. I don't know how well he's coping, emotionally."

" _I can talk to him, yes,"_ Mainspring said.

"Thanks." Jazz finally worked the knife free and subspaced it before jogging over to where Ultra Magnus was waiting.

" _All right, I'm having a bridge sent to you."_ Mainspring sighed. _"You know, sometimes I think I'm also head of the transportation department."_

"Hey, we should get one of those."

" _Yes, we should."_ Mainspring said. _"I'll look into that since I'm also the head of recruitment."_

A groundbridge opened.

"Hey," Jazz said to Ultra Magnus. "You aren't hurt, are ya?"

"I am unharmed," Magnus said. "Though… I am glad to be out of that prison cell."

"Bet ya are," Jazz said. "Well, here's our portal. Go ahead."

Jazz followed closely behind the other mech. They walked out the other side into the crowded Autobot groundbridge station.

"Okay," Jazz said. "Come on, we'll talk as we head back toward the tower."

"I doubt I will be welcome there."

"Mech, I think it'll be fine. They let _me_ come back after all. Besides, we ain't going there yet, and—"

"You may address me as Ultra Magnus," Magnus said. "And while I appreciate Optimus's honor and generosity, I made a vow of loyalty to the Iacon Council. Does the Council still operate?"

"…Yes." Jazz said hesitantly. He was starting to wonder if bringing this mech back was a good idea. He'd forgotten about the whole Council thing. He should probably not mention the fact that the new Elite Guard leader had all but renounced the Council and sworn loyalty to Optimus instead. "So ya wanna go ta the Council Hall?"

Ultra Magnus frowned.

"Didn't they try ta get rid of you?"

"Regardless, I have a duty to fulfill. I must return to them."

Jazz pulled his stasis cuffs out of subspace. "Guess I'll just have ta arrest ya and we'll keep ya in Autobot custody until we can sort this all out."

He could see the battle going on in the other mech's processor, so he took advantage of the distraction and put the stasis cuffs on him. Magnus pulled away for a moment, then gave in.

"Follow me." Jazz led the way out the door and toward a nearby building that belonged to the Autobots.

It had been a long orn and it wasn't over yet. Jazz had to go talk to everymech and get reports, and check on Mirage...

Lots to do. They'd been successful, though—they'd gotten all of the prisoners free, and that definitely called for a celebration—maybe even an army-wide celebration.

The Autobots needed something to cheer them up. It had been a pretty bleak decaorn, what with the seekers joining the 'Cons and all. A good party might help.

He started planning for that too, as he led the way into a small room and waited for Orion to comm. him.

* * *

Orion walked among his returned mecha. Many of them were soldiers who had been captured in the battle for Tesarus. Some were civilians from Megatron's raid on Iacon. They were being reunited now with friends, sparkmates, and freedom. They had not had an easy time of it, and many had not come back. There were still mecha of his who were working in the mines, and some had reportedly been taken away—probably to Shockwave's lab—and had never returned.

Orion tried not to dwell on that—tried to focus on how successful the rescue had been instead. He'd heard from Mainspring just a breem ago, that Jazz had managed to rescue Mirage, which was another huge relief.

Mainspring commed him and he answered immediately. _"Yes?"_

" _Prime, Sir, Mirage is back on base and with Ratchet. He ought to be up for visitors in a few joors, or at least by next orn."_

Orion made a mental note to stop by and see him sometime.

" _Another thing,"_ Mainspring said. _"Jazz is bringing back another prisoner… though we didn't know the Decepticons had him. In fact, we thought he was dead."_

" _Who?"_

" _Ultra Magnus."_

Orion stopped, shocked. Ultra Magnus was alive? And he'd been a Decepticon prisoner? _"Are you sure?"_ he asked.

" _I'm only relaying information,"_ Mainspring said. _"Jazz will be through a bridge and back in Iacon in a few breems, maybe sooner, and you can talk to him directly."_

" _Thank you. I will do that."_ This was wonderful news—he almost couldn't believe it. He had been devastated when he found out the mech was offline, and worried that he had made the wrong choice sending him back to the Council. He hoped this was real, and not just some trick or misunderstanding.

He spent another ten breems or so among the mecha who had returned from Kaon, talking to them, and then he commed Jazz. "Have you returned yet?"

" _Yep."_ Jazz said. _"Did Mainspring tell ya about Magnus?"_

"Mainspring told me he was alive," Orion said.

" _Good. I'm assuming ya wanna talk ta him? I'm in the recruitment office just east of our groundbridge station in a side room."_

Orion nodded, though he knew Jazz couldn't see him. "All right," he said. "I will be there shortly."

He left the crowd and headed toward the recruitment office. Ironhide jogged up beside him.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Orion hesitated. He wanted to make sure this mech Jazz had brought back was really Ultra Magnus before telling anyone he was online.

"What?" Ironhide asked.

"Jazz brought back another prisoner from Kaon," Orion said. "I want to speak with him."

"Jazz or the prisoner?" Ironhide asked. "Who is it?"

"Both," Orion said. "And… Jazz believes it is Ultra Magnus."

Ironhide stared at him. "How the pit would he have ended up in Kaon?"

"I don't know," Orion said, and led the way into the recruitment office.

"Well, it's a relief that he's not offline," Ironhide said as they approached the desk that was set up off to the side of the room. "Primus…"

"Did Commander Jazz come in here?" Orion asked the mech behind the desk.

He nodded. "Yes, Sir. He's over there." He pointed to a slightly open door off to the side.

"Ironhide, can you stay out here?" Orion asked.

"I could help prove it's him," Ironhide said.

"I want to talk to him privately."

"Fine," Ironhide said, and took up a post outside the door while Orion slid it open the rest of the way and entered, closing it behind him.

"Hey, mech," Jazz said brightly.

"Why is he stasis-cuffed?" Orion asked, frowning at Ultra Magnus, who met his gaze with an unreadable expression.

"Cuz he wants ta go get himself offlined by the Council again," Jazz said. "So I thought we might want ta arrest him instead. I guess it was probably a little unnecessary, but ya know…" he pulled something out of subspace. "Here's the key. I'll stay outta your plating and let ya talk." He tossed the key to Orion, who caught it. Jazz sat off to the side and pulled out a datapad.

Ultra Magnus stood as Orion approached, and Orion took the stasis cuffs off of him. "It's so good to see you. Are you all right?"

Ultra Magnus looked a little surprised.

Orion set the stasis cuffs and the key off to the side. "What happened? How did you end up with the Decepticons?"

"I believe the Council may be listening to this conversation," Ultra Magnus said.

"Nope," Jazz cut in. "I found the feed that thing's sending ta the Council and intercepted it while we were waiting for the Prime ta show up. We'll have ta have a medic find where the device is and get rid of it, but for now, ya can talk freely."

"Thank you," Orion said, and turned his attention back to Ultra Magnus. "Now, what happened?"

"The Council was displeased with my failure to stay undercover as a spy. They sentenced me to lifelong imprisonment. But that was a lie. I... woke up in the Institute."

Orion stared at him, and even Jazz looked up from his datapad.

"I was only there for a decaorn, I believe," Ultra Magnus said. "And then the Decepticons showed up and took over. I do not know what happened to anyone else, but I was imprisoned. Megatron would talk to me once in a while, offer me positions in his army, threaten me, but always just put me back in my cell. Occasionally, there were others in the cells around me who I presume they were keeping for questioning. Those were almost never there for more than a few decaorns and I can only assume they were killed."

Orion looked down and nodded. "I presume Mirage was one of them, and Jazz found you when he rescued Mirage."

"Yes," Ultra Magnus said.

"Well," Orion said. "Welcome back, Ultra Magnus. You've had quite the ordeal, for which I am truly sorry, but we could certainly use your help if you're willing to offer it. If we can arrange for it, I would like to reinstate you to your previous position."

"Thank you," Ultra Magnus said. "But I have an obligation to the Council. If it weren't for that, I would be honored to swear loyalty to you instead, Prime."

Orion had been expecting that. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you turn yourself in to the Council. I know I don't have a right to interfere with that decision, but if you return to them, they may kill you."

"But I—"

"Not only are you a valuable resource to the Autobots, you are my friend. I can't let that happen."

Ultra Magnus met his gaze. "You are different than you were before. More confident."

"Thank you," Orion said. "But I still have a lot to learn. And I really could use your help and your leadership experience."

The other mech looked conflicted.

"Is there a way for you to officially retire from the Elite Guard?"

"Only if I have a serious, long-term injury, if I have served for a hundred vorns, or if the Council agrees to release me from my oath."

Three options. Only one was a reasonable solution. "Then I will speak with the Council and convince them to release you."

Ultra Magnus looked surprised again. "They won't agree to release me… at least not without something in return."

"I am aware."

"I'm not worth that," Ultra Magnus said. "You cannot give them more power. If you… kept me in custody, I could advise you. Though I…"

"I don't want you to feel obligated to work toward the Council's interests," Orion said. "And the Elite Guard… things have happened in your absence."

"Have they abandoned the Council?" Ultra Magnus looked suddenly stern and disapproving.

"Not exactly," Orion said. "Your successor came and offered me his help and his loyalty. I asked them to continue to guard the Council for the time being."

Ultra Magnus looked surprised yet again. "I… thank you."

"I suppose if they reinstate you…"

Ultra Magnus shook his helm. "I doubt that will happen. However, I cannot advise you to negotiate with the Council in my behalf. They will certainly demand more than I am worth."

"I think I'll be the judge of that," Orion said. "And I will be careful. I won't agree to anything that will undermine the Autobots or that will give the Council more power to harm innocent mecha." He might even be willing to make a few threats, if necessary.

Ultra Magnus seemed to study the ground, and didn't speak for nearly a breem. Eventually, though, he looked up again. "Thank you. If you can convince them to release me from my oath, I will be forever indebted to you."

"All I can ask for in return is your help and only if you are willing to offer it." Orion said. "For now… is there somewhere to keep him, Jazz?"

"Well, the tower's the safest," Jazz said. "We can keep him in 'Raj's vaults for now. But if ya want him off-base, I can probably find somewhere ta put him." At the same time, Jazz sent him a private comm. _"Are ya sure this is Ultra Magnus and not Makeshift?"_

Orion nodded. "Yes. And I believe Mirage's tower will be all right. You may escort him there."

"Sure thing," Jazz said. "Uh, Prime?"

"Yes."

"Ya wouldn't mind if I organized some sort of a celebration, ya know, in honor of everyone getting back from Kaon all right."

"That would be fine…" Orion said.

"Good, cuz I already started getting the word out," Jazz said.

"…so long as it wasn't too big."

Jazz smiled in a way that wasn't really very reassuring. "It won't be too big," he said.

"Very well," Orion said. "Again, Ultra Magnus, it is good to have you back. Is there anything you need? Energon? Medical care?"

"I am fine," Ultra Magnus said. "How is…was it Mirage?"

Orion looked to Jazz for an answer.

"I think he'll be all right," Jazz said more solemnly than normal. "He was coherent and could walk all right, and I doubt there's anything wrong with him physically that Ratchet won't have fixed by the end of the orn..."

"Thank you for bringing him back," Orion said.

"Eh," Jazz said. "I had a bit of an opportunity last orn, and I should have taken it, but I decided ta play it safe for once."

"I'm glad you didn't take an unnecessary risk," Orion said. "Everything worked out."

Jazz nodded.

"Well, I need to go," Orion said. "Ultra Magnus, I will come speak to you some time next orn."

The mech nodded, and Orion left.

"So, is he really back?" Ironhide asked.

"Yes," Orion said. "And we should get back to Mirage's tower."

Ironhide nodded and led the way out of the building.

* * *

Elita was waiting for him in his office.

He hadn't really expected that, though he'd been pretty sure she wasn't taking part in the festivities Jazz had organized. He smiled at her. "Elita, I'm glad you're here. I was wondering if you could get in contact with some mecha. I need an audience with the Iacon Council in the next few orns and I want to start visiting city-states again, now that things have calmed down a little here."

"Orion," Elita said.

He knew. "I still have work to do."

"Orion."

Mirage's tower was practically empty. Everyone had the rest of the orn off and many of them had gone to join the Autobot soldiers celebrating in the city. They were vulnerable right now, to an attack. Orion wished he could let his guard down, but someone had to stay alert. "I…"

"No," Elita said, and she was upset now. "I haven't really had time to talk to you since Vos…I need this, I need you, and I don't know when we'll have a better opportunity to spend some time together."

Some of her friends had offlined, just orns before, and she was still grieving. Orion looked down, and Elita approached him until she was standing close enough he could hear her engine thrumming.

He raised his helm slightly and smiled at her, and she closed the distance. They put their arms around each other and Orion rested his faceplate on the top of her helm and gave in. Emotions washed over him. Relief, worry, exhaustion, sorrow, anxiety, relief. Elita's emotions mirrored his, but after a breem or so he felt better, and he knew she did too. She tilted her helm up and he looked down into her sky blue optics.

"Can your work wait a joor?" she asked.

He couldn't say no.


	44. Home Free

Mirage came online fighting for his life until he recognized the mecha holding him down and his memory circuits caught up.

He relaxed onto the berth and Jazz and Ratchet let go of him.

"I warned ya," Jazz said. "Raj, mech, ya okay?"

Mirage nodded. He felt all right, if a little stressed. The last time he'd been lying on a berth like this… he shuddered and pushed those memories away. If he didn't think about it, he would be all right. He knew it was over, and he was safe.

He was never doing that again. Never.

"I'm going to scan you and I want you to do a diagnostics check as well," Ratchet said. "Just to make sure your systems are all functioning properly."

Mirage obediently checked to make sure all of his systems were functioning, and sat through all of Ratchet's scanning and probing. By the time the medic was satisfied, Mirage was about ready to snap.

"All right," Ratchet said, finally. "You can go. But don't do anything strenuous for a whole orn, do you understand?"

"I didn't plan on it," Mirage retorted, and didn't feel remotely sorry for his tone. He wanted nothing more than to go to his room and be left alone for a decaorn.

Of course, no one would ever let him do that.

As he'd expected, Jazz followed him out of the medbay and down the hall.

"So," the black and white mech said. "Ya all right?"

"I'm fine," Mirage muttered.

"Okay," Jazz said. "Well… I know ya probably don't care ta chat about it right now, but ya said something about Shockwave being on the next stage of his experiments…"

"Right," Mirage said.

"And I probably need a full report from ya as soon as possible. But ya can either give it ta me verbally, or go give it ta Mainspring, or write it up and send it ta me."

Well that was an easy decision. "I'll write it up," Mirage said. "I'll have it to you by the end of the orn. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get some rest."

"Sure," Jazz said, though he shot Mirage a concerned look.

"What?"

"Take it easy, mech," Jazz said. "And even if ya just write up your report, I wanna talk to ya in my office, maybe next orn, okay?"

Mirage frowned, which stretched the still-healing crack in his faceplate. "I'll be as detailed as is reasonable in my report," he said. That was going to be a nightmare to write, but it would be better than giving it verbally. "Do you need anything else?" They were standing outside his room now.

"I don't," Jazz said. "Um… Orion'll probably stop by some time ta talk to ya. Oh, and Mainspring will need a copy of your report as well."

Mirage nodded.

"That's all," Jazz said.

He hadn't made a single joke, Mirage realized, since they'd been talking. He must be actually concerned. Mirage supposed he should be grateful the mech cared about him so much, but for whatever reason, it just made him angry.

Jazz was right to worry, right to be sorry. Mirage was _not_ all right. He was safe now, so he didn't have a reason to be upset anymore, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't known it was possible to feel so powerless and alone, and that had been almost worse than the actual pain.

He left Jazz in the hall and closed his door behind himself. Then he activated his mod so no one could see him. Not Red Alert with his cameras, not anyone.

Mirage crossed the room, invisible, and curled up on his berth. He thought he might cry, but he couldn't—he just lay there feeling shaky and awful, waiting for his emotional core to calm down.

He tried to recharge, but his systems wouldn't shut down, so after a while he gave up and went to his desk. A datapad—the novel he'd been reading before Jazz had sent him on the mission—was sitting on the corner. He scowled and opened a drawer to trade it out with an empty datapad he could use to write a report. The device was visible, though he still wasn't. Red Alert would see a floating datapad. Good for him.

Mirage didn't want to write this report, but he also wanted to do _something,_ and he was going to need to write it eventually. He sat at his desk and stared at the blank file for a few breems, trying to decide what to include. He was still sifting through memories for any useful information he'd learned in Kaon when there was a knock at the door. Mirage subspaced the datapad and went to see who it was.

Orion, as he'd expected. He turned his mod off so the Prime could see him.

"May I speak with you for a few breems?"

"Of course," Mirage said.

He could remember the first time he'd met this mech. He'd already been intrigued by the Autobot cause, after Soundwave and Jazz had approached him about donating credit to it. But it wasn't until he'd met Orion that he had decided to join. There had always been something charismatic about the humble archivist—charismatic in a good, honorable way.

"I'm glad you returned home safely," Orion said. "And I am sorry for what you went through."

Mirage forced himself to shrug. "It's an occupational hazard, I suppose," he said. "I am perfectly fine now, thank you for your concern."

Orion nodded, looking uncertain—probably because Mirage hadn't invited him in. "If… there is anything I can do for you please let me know. We are already so indebted to you…"

"Really, Optimus, I don't need anything," Mirage insisted. It wasn't as if he hadn't caused them some problems too. His capture, in and of itself, had made a lot of work for Jazz and Mainspring. He didn't think he'd made it more than an orn and a half before he'd started giving information to his Decepticon captors in return for respite from the pain. And even before that, Soundwave had gotten a decent amount of information from him. "You don't owe me anything."

Orion looked concerned.

"What?" Mirage said. "I just told you I'm fine. And I'm honored that you came to talk to me, but… I don't know what we have to talk about."

He was tired of this conversation. He had the nagging feeling that Orion and Jazz and Mainspring were conspiring to assess his mental state so they could try to repair it somehow, but Mirage didn't want that. He just wanted to be left alone.

"I'm sorry for imposing," Orion said. "I just wanted to thank you, and to apologize that it took us so long to rescue you… do you know what happened with the war while you were in Kaon?"

"No," Mirage said. "Though Jazz did mention that _something_ happened. I don't want to take up your time, though—is there another way to get caught up?"

"We've made an official statement about it that we have put on the public databases as well as given to the media. It has the truth, though not many details."

Mirage nodded.

"And you can feel free to ask me if you have questions about it."

"Very well. Is there anything else?"

Orion looked down. "No…"

"Then I won't keep you."

"Mirage?"

"Yes, Optimus?" Mirage didn't want to meet his optics.

"If you need someone to talk to, you know you have many options."

Mirage didn't answer. Just go away. Go away, please.

"Mirage?"

"I know," Mirage said. "Right now, I just… just need to be left alone."

Silence fell for a few moments.

"Very well," Orion smiled slightly, then turned and walked away.

Mirage shut his door and turned his mod on again. His faceplate was starting to hurt, and he reached up and fingered the still-healing weld where Ratchet had repaired it. That was probably going to scar.

He didn't want to think about it. Besides, things had happened while he was gone, and he should check on that. It would be a good way to procrastinate writing the report Jazz wanted.

It didn't take him very long browsing the news to find out what had happened.

Vos had fallen—literally fallen from the sky. And Megatron had blamed the Autobots for it. _That_ must have been what the warlord was doing in Vos.

He found the Autobot side of the story and checked the timing. As far as he could tell, none of the really awful things had happened until after he'd been captured. If he'd been able to tell Jazz where Megatron was…

But there was no way. By the time Mirage had discovered that Megatron was in Vos, Soundwave had already discovered that _he_ was on base. He couldn't have prevented the fall of the city-state.

He read a few news articles, then finally went back to writing his report. It probably wasn't the best report he'd ever composed, but it would have to do. He sent it to Mainspring and Jazz and then went back to looking at the news—this time trying to find out the details of the rescue mission that Jazz had used as a distraction to rescue him. They'd freed almost all of the prisoners the Decepticons had been keeping. He couldn't figure out how, though. All the reports said that a few mecha had attacked their guards while they were being transported across Kaon, and then had led them safely out of the city-state. But there was no way something so simple would have worked.

Mirage could ask Jazz for the details.

He got a message in reply to the report he'd sent, but waited a couple of breems to read it, because he didn't want to know what it said.

When he finally gave in, he regretted it. As he'd expected, Mainspring wanted to talk to him.

Well, that was too bad for Mainspring. Mirage was not leaving his room for the rest of the orn and that was that. He deserved an orn off if anyone did.

The news was a nice distraction, so he went back to reading.

There were a lot of articles about the war, and the political stances of various city-states. Then there was the usual fearmongering about Cybertron running out of energon. The media, of course, liked to pronounce doom and gloom and impending crisis whenever they could, and energon mine productivity had been dropping for almost a vorn now. Of course, it wasn't dropping enough to be a serious problem, and Mirage figured that if if was necessary, they could find new reservoirs. From what he knew, the core would produce energon indefinitely.

He skimmed past several articles about the supposed energon crisis, and was in the middle of reading an interesting one about a mining accident where a whole team of miners had been poisoned by some kind of tainted energon vein, when Mainspring commed him. He almost ignored it but then, recognizing that that was sparkling-like behavior, answered instead, turning off his mod as he did so since it was an external comm. "Mainspring?"

" _Did you get my message?"_ Mainspring asked. _"I was wondering if you could come to my office?"_

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have missed the message. I didn't think anyone would need me this orn."

"It's all right if you aren't feeling up to it. I do want to talk to you, though, when you're available."

"I'm sure you do," Mirage said, and cut the comm.

He felt a little bad about that, but mecha should really learn to take a hint.

* * *

Halogen prepared himself. He had been waiting for the Prime to come begging for help, but so far no one from the Autobots had attempted to contact the Council.

Vos had allied itself with the Decepticons. Megatron had practically won already. If it weren't for his habit of slaughtering the Councils of the cities he conquered, Iacon's Council would have sided with him orns ago.

The Prime's faceplate appeared on the screen that covered the wall of the Council chamber. Halogen liked it better when mecha appeared personally. They always looked so small and insignificant standing on the Council floor.

"Optimus Prime," Halogen said. "You dare to contact us after your actions in Vos."

"You know as well as I do that we did not sink Vos," the mech said calmly. Every time Halogen talked to him he was more confident, more capable. Every time, Halogen felt more redundant.

"It was very, very poor strategy," Halogen said. "I'm sure you regret it now."

"That is not what I have contacted you to discuss," Optimus didn't make any more attempts to deny that he'd destroyed the city. Of course, Halogen knew he hadn't.

"No?" Halogen said. "Then what is? Is this another request? Do you need more funding for your new base? It won't do you any good, Prime. Now that Megatron has the seekers on his side, your cause is doomed." Even without the seekers, Megatron would still have won. As much as the librarian was growing to fit his role, he was still no warlord, and the newest youngling could calculate that the Decepticons would surely be victorious.

"We have recently freed a number of mecha who were prisoners of the Decepticons," Optimus said.

"I am aware."

"I am sure you are also aware that Ultra Magnus was one of them?"

Halogen shot a glance at Senator Ratbat, who smirked in his direction. Then he looked at the members of the Elite Guard around the room. None of them showed any signs of shock or surprise, but they were good at hiding their emotions.

He spoke to the Prime. "Why, that's wonderful news! Have him sent here immediately and we will reinstate him to his former post as head of the Elite Guard."

"Unfortunately, I am unable to do that," Optimus said. "Instead, I formally request that you release him from his oath to serve you."

Silence fell.

"And why should we be so foolish?" Halogen said. "Why should we surrender an ally to you?" Did he really think Halogen would give up so great a bargaining chip? The tracker and the listening device they'd had on Magnus had stopped transmitting just after he'd returned to Iacon, and Halogen suspected the Autobots had removed them. Optimus knew, or guessed at least, what would happen if he turned Magnus over to the Council again.

"I was unaware we were enemies," the Prime said.

Halogen smirked. "It's too late to start playing our games, sparkling. Let's get to the point. How badly do you want us to release Ultra Magnus from his oath?"

He watched the faceplate of his opponent. This mech was an amateur, though he was a very talented amateur. Halogen had always thought he'd make a wonderful politician.

"He would be a valuable resource to me as an advisor," Optimus said. "What use is he to you?"

"If you want an advisor, I can suggest one."

Optimus didn't react.

"I believe I could even suggest one who is more knowledgeable and useful than that guard."

"I repeat my question," Optimus said. "What use is he to you?"

"I don't think that matters," Halogen said. In this situation, the only thing that mattered was what Optimus was willing to give up in exchange.

He seemed to realize that as well. "What do you want?"

"The safety and well-being of this world."

"Halogen…" the warning tone in his voice was almost, almost intimidating. "What do you want in return for releasing Ultra Magnus from his oath to serve the Iacon Council?"

He was letting them make the first bid. How kind of him. Halogen made a show of thinking carefully. Of course, Ratbat had come up with a plan quite a while ago for this very scenario. The question was whether it would still work. Optimus Prime was stronger and wiser than he had been, and he would never intentionally put the Council back in power. He would know that any deal they proposed would have some sort of trap in it.

The only way to get the better of him would be to ask for something that he would be willing to give. Something he was willing to sacrifice that he shouldn't be.

Halogen took in a slow, deep vent and kept his expression neutral as he answered. "You want us to release Ultra Magnus from his oath," he said. "I think we should get what we give, Optimus Prime. I have a proposition. It will need to be sustained by the Council first, of course, but I see no reason you shouldn't hear it as well, so you can think it over while we deliberate."

The Prime was silent.

Halogen allowed the barest hint of a smirk to grace his lip plates, though he kept his tone calm and controlled. "If you, Optimus Prime, swear an oath to serve the Council, then we will release Ultra Magnus from _his_ oath."

He could see the implications of that working their way through Optimus's processor. The mech was not very good at keeping a straight face.

For a moment, Halogen worried. Certainly, quartexes ago, the Prime would have made this trade without a thought. But now he was thinking.

Then a resigned expression settled on his faceplate. "As a Prime, and the leader of the Autobots, I would be putting many mecha at risk if I swore loyalty to you. I cannot do that."

"In that case, we respectfully request that you return Ultra Magnus to our custody."

Optimus looked troubled.

If he refused, Halogen could find a way to make him regret it. They couldn't take Ultra Magnus back by force because of the Prime's army, but they didn't need to. "You know he will be loyal to us, so long as he is under oath," Halogen said. "Will you hold him captive against his will?"

Optimus glanced to the side, as if checking that the room around him was empty, then faced Halogen through the screen again. "I...may be willing to swear to protect you and your interests insofar as your requests do not interfere with the Autobot cause."

Halogen considered that. It would incorporate too much gray area into the agreement. The Prime would be able to wiggle out of most of the things the Council might ask of him.

On the other hand, it was better than nothing. And if the Autobots somehow managed to defeat the Decepticons…

"We will consider your offer," Halogen said. "Give us a few breems." He sent a comm to his assistant to close the connection and the screen went blank.

He opened up the floor to the other councilmecha and listened to their opinions. Most of them were for it. A small increase of influence was better than none. After discussing for several breems, they decided they wanted one more modification to the deal, though. They called the Prime back.

"Have you reached a decision?" Optimus asked.

"Yes," Halogen said. "We have decided to accept your offer, with one stipulation."

"And what is that?"

"You must also swear an oath that once the conflict is over and Megatron is defeated you will disband the Autobots."

Optimus frowned.

"This will benefit you as much as it will benefit us," Halogen explained. "We will be much more willing to offer our assistance if we know your army will be disbanded after the war. Besides, once the rebellion is quelled, you will have no need of an army."

"And once there are no more Autobots, you will have full control over me," Optimus added.

Exactly.

"You said you were unaware we were enemies," Halogen said. "Of course, you were lying, but if you make this oath we will _truly_ be allies." It was a ticket back into power as soon as the conflict was over. "We will be fully on your side and will assist you in your war efforts. We can even provide extra funding for your base, and more of our resources for your army."

Halogen watched Optimus's faceplate and knew what the mech's answer would be before he spoke.

"Very well," the Prime said. "I will agree to those terms."

"You will need to appear formally before the Council to make your oath," Halogen said.

"I will schedule a time to do that," he said. "We will be in touch."

"In the meantime," Halogen said. "We demand that you return Ultra Magnus to us."

"I'm afraid that would be unwise," Optimus said. "The Decepticons have a mechformer and until we can confirm that Ultra Magnus is truly himself, the only responsible course of action is to keep him in custody as a potential prisoner of war."

Halogen nodded. Well played. "I suppose I can't argue with that," he said. "We will expect to see you soon."

Optimus nodded, and the conversation was over. The screen went blank.

Halogen smiled.

They all knew who had won that one.

* * *

Jazz tapped his fingers on the desk, waiting. It had been a full two orns since the rescue, and Mirage hadn't left his room since being released from Ratchet's office. He wouldn't be surprised if the noblemech didn't show up.

In fact, it would almost be a surprise if Mirage _did_ come.

Jazz's office door opened, and he was relieved to see Mirage there.

"Hey, mech," Jazz said cheerfully as Mirage came in and sat down across from him. "How ya doing?"

"I'm doing well," Mirage replied mildly. "Did you have questions about my report, or…"

"Nah, it was great. That's not what I wanted ta talk to ya about."

Mirage frowned. "All right," he said. There was something guarded and wary about the way he held himself—almost as if he saw Jazz as a threat.

Jazz sighed. "I'm sorry about what happened to ya on that mission… and I can't guarantee that something like that won't happen again. It's one of the risks of being in the department, and as much as I want to, I can't do nothing about it."

Mirage seemed a little confused. "All right," he said.

"I mean, I could send ya on low-risk missions the rest of the war, but I don't need more mecha ta go on low risk missions, 'Raj, and you're real valuable as an infiltrator, ya know that."

Mirage nodded.

"On the other hand, I don't want ta ask ya ta do anything against your will, so… I wanna let ya know I don't expect ya ta stay in the department after this."

Mirage looked down, but didn't say anything.

Jazz watched his faceplate carefully. "Ya can quit if ya want to. No shame, no exit fee. If ya don't wanna risk that again, I don't wanna ask ya to. And ya don't have ta give me your answer right now, cuz I know it's a lot ta think about. I'd be happy ta have ya stay, but if ya do I need ya ta accept that might happen again."

Mirage wouldn't look at him, and was silent long enough that Jazz started to worry.

"Raj?"

"I don't know," the noblemech said at length. "I… don't know whether it would be responsible of me to stay in the department. I didn't really do a good job keeping information from the Decepticons…"

"Ya gotta be kidding me," Jazz said. "Mech, I don't care what ya told them—I had that covered. And either way, ya're the greatest asset we got in this department. That shouldn't be hard for ya ta believe."

The noblemech got a peculiar look on his faceplate. "Was that… a subtle insult about my arrogance?"

Jazz smirked. "Maybe. Actually, mech, your sudden humility's kinda scaring me."

"Oh, shut up."

"In any case…" Jazz said.

"Look," Mirage said. "I… I will have to think about that. However… I did sign up for this, and it's not like I have anywhere else to go at this point."

Silence fell.

"I'm not going to back out now, just because things got a little unpleasant last time I went to Kaon. I… I'm fine."

Jazz wasn't entirely sure about that, but he was happy Mirage at least had some desire to stay in the department. "Okay."

"Is that all you needed me for?"

"Yeah, mech. Ya can go."

Jazz watched him leave, and sat back in his chair to think about how that conversation had gone.

* * *

Mirage had forgotten to turn his mod on when he left Jazz's office, and he ran into Blurr just around the corner.

"Mirage!" Blurr nearly tackled him with a hug. Mirage stiffened, but his friend let go quickly. "By the Allspark, Mirage, when I found out you'd been captured I was so worried... How are you doing?"

"I…" Mirage said, trying to stifle a sudden swell of emotion in his core. "Yes, I'm fine."

Blurr looked at him.

"Really," Mirage said, turning his faceplate away, hoping Blurr hadn't seen the still-healing wound there. "I was just heading to my room, though."

"I'll let you go then," Blurr said solemnly. "It's so good to have you back, though."

"Thank you," Mirage said, and though Optimus had said that too, it was better to hear it from his lifelong friend. "It's good to be back, believe me."

Blurr nodded.

"Say…" Mirage said. "You wouldn't happen to know the details of the rescue attempt? As you might guess, they aren't on any public databases I could find and I can't figure out how you got all the prisoners out of Kaon."

"Of course," Blurr said. "I was there, after all."

"You were there?"

"I volunteered. Jazz let me help escort the prisoners out of the city."

Mirage frowned. "But how did you get away without the Decepticons catching you?"

"Right," Blurr said. "You know that mech with the hologram mod? Hound?"

"Ah…" Mirage said. "He caused a distraction?"

"Yes," Blurr grinned. "A distraction, so that the other prisoners could escape, which caused a distraction so that Jazz could rescue you."

"I should thank him," Mirage said. "And you, of course, since you were part of it."

"I think he's in the tower right now," Blurr said. "I saw him coming out of Mainspring's office just half a breem ago."

Mirage hesitated.

"What?"

"I'll find him and thank him some other time," Mirage said. "I'm… tired." It was a lie, but he didn't want to walk around the tower and run into anyone else.

"All right," Blurr said. "I'll let you rest then."

"Don't look so concerned, I'm fine," Mirage snapped.

Blurr tilted his helm to the side, with a skeptical expression.

"I just want some time alone," Mirage said.

"I know," Blurr replied. "That's why I said I'll let you rest. But you don't have to try and insist you're fine."

Mirage relaxed slightly. "Thank you," he said, then left his friend standing in the hallway.

* * *

Prowl walked through the crystal garden into the courtyard. It felt good, coming here after more than two decaorns. It had been too long.

Yoketron looked up. "Prowl… I was expecting Orion."

"I know," Prowl said. "He will be late this orn. I came to apologize for him, and because it's been too long since I've trained."

"Hmmm," Yoketron stood. "I admit I'm glad to see you, though I'd heard you were badly injured and I wasn't expecting you here for at least another two decaorns."

"I've found they tend to exaggerate the length of time you need to recover from injuries," Prowl said as he approached his teacher and bowed, trying not to wince.

Yoketron narrowed his optics, then walked around Prowl and touched his back, between his doorwings. "There is a lot of tension here," he pushed gently and Prowl shuttered his optics, flinching. "Wanting to be well is a very important part of healing, but it must be balanced with patience. You are not yet ready to resume training."

Prowl looked down.

"Of course, I will not turn you away, my friend. In fact, there are stretches and exercises I can teach you that should alleviate the pain a little, and help you heal. Come sit and meditate for a few breems first, though."

Prowl followed him to the center of the courtyard and sat down carefully. He was not unaware of Yoketron watching him.

"I can tell from your faceplate that you are uncomfortable. Doesn't your medic give you anything for the pain?"

"Nothing that doesn't also make me tired."

"Ah," Yoketron said. "Perhaps that's a subtle hint that he wants you to get more rest."

"No doubt."

"Maybe you _ought_ to get more recharge. That will help you heal faster."

"I can't," Prowl said. "I have so much to do, and when I try to rest, sometimes it's hard. I… the Decepticons have the seekers now… unless we're very careful and do everything right, I don't know how we can win. We'll do our best, and I don't think we're going to be surrendering any time soon, but I… Yoketron, do you think we can still win the war?" He studied his wise teacher's faceplate, but could see no answer on it, only thoughtful consideration.

"Master Yoketron?"

"I don't think that's your concern."

Prowl blinked. "Excuse me?"

"This war is foretold," Yoketron said. "Both Optimus and Megatron have prophesied parts to play. The light and the dark. Autobot and Decepticon. One shall stand; one shall fall. Scriptorians have been trying to determine who will win this conflict for centivorns, but none can agree."

Prowl waited for more.

"Personally, I believe the light will prevail, and Megatron will eventually be defeated," Yoketron said. "It is not failure I fear, but the cost of success. And that is another of the many reasons I am training you as well as Orion."

Prowl frowned, still confused.

"Defeating Megatron is Orions's task, and must be his sole focus. But your task is different. As far as I can tell, you are not foretold anywhere, Prowl. You are my wild card, my confounding variable, my secret weapon. This war will destroy Cybertron—that is foretold. It has already started, and some orn everything we have here will be lost. In our struggles, there is always the unfortunate possibility that the struggle itself will destroy both sides. But my hope is that you can prevent that. Above all else, Prowl, you must not let the war win."

Prowl considered that for a few astroseconds. "What does that mean?" he asked. "And how can I possibly stop the war from winning if, as you say, it is foretold."

"You will need to discover that for yourself," Yoketron said.

"Master Yoketron!"

"When I say that," Yoketron said. "Most of the time what I mean is I have no idea. I told you I'd ask you to do the impossible, didn't I? Now, on that note, let us meditate."

* * *

Notes:

1\. Sorry this update is a bit late. I'd like to say I was doing fun Halloween stuff last night and didn't have time to look over the chapter, but honestly I just forgot and was working on a different writing project.

2\. Thanks for reading!


	45. New Roles

Orion hadn't told anyone about his deal with the Council. He knew they'd try to talk him out of it—not for his own sake alone, but also because it could be dangerous for the Autobots as a whole. Orion was certain the Council thought they had him outmaneuvered. But he was also certain they didn't fully understand the deal themselves. So long as the war continued, they would be obliged to help him, and there were hints in the Covenant of Primus that the war would go on for a very long time. Furthermore, they underestimated Ultra Magnus's worth. For the few decaorns that he'd been part of the command element, meetings had been more focused and consistent, and his leadership experience and stabilizing presence were invaluable.

Even so, Orion knew his agreement with the Council might come back to bite him later. If and when the Autobots defeated the Decepticons, Orion would be fully under their command. When the time came, he would honor that oath to the best of his ability and hope that no one got hurt because of it. But, for now, this was his best option.

He entered the Council Hall and stood before them—all of them were present except for Alpha Trion who had resigned.

After exchanging false pleasantries with High Councilor Halogen, Orion recited the oath they had agreed on. It gave him the power to refuse to do what the Council asked, but only if it interfered with the overall objective of the Autobot cause which was to protect the world and defeat Megatron.

After the war was over, though, Orion would be barely more than a slave to them.

Ultra Magnus would be free, though, and would be able to act as his second-in-command for the duration of the war, and the Council would be fully invested in the outcome as well. The short term benefits were enough, for now.

When Orion was finished reading the oath, they gave him a datapad with an official document relieving Ultra Magnus from his oaths. He took it with him when he left. He'd half expected the Council to start making demands, but they had just said they'd be in touch.

He drove from the Council Hall to the neighborhood where the Autobot soldiers lived. Ultra Magnus was being kept there temporarily. Ratchet had removed the recording device from his helm, and he had made no attempts to leave Autobot custody, but he'd also refused to stay in Mirage's tower until everything was sorted out with the Council.

He stood when Orion entered the room they were keeping him in, and Orion handed him the datapad the Council had given him. Magnus turned it on and read it silently. Orion watched as the other mech's optics reached the bottom of the file.

"You are free now to do whatever you want," Orion said.

"Thank you," Ultra Magnus spoke softly, almost reverently. "I am eternally indebted to you, Prime, Sir."

"No," Orion protested. "You don't owe me anything."

"What did you… Sir, what did you give in return for this?"

"That is not important," Orion said, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice. "The Council was surprisingly reasonable."

"They will attempt to deceive you."

"I know," Orion said. "But all will be well. For now… I don't want to presume anything, but if you still want to be an Autobot…"

"Yes, of course," Ultra Magnus said. "I would be honored to serve you, now that I am free from the Council."

"Good," Orion said. "This orn, I want you to come to our meeting and I will formally introduce you to everyone and reinstate you as second in command."

"Are you certain they will trust me?"

He sounded like Prowl. "What matters is that _I_ trust you," Orion said. "And they trust me. Thank you for being willing to accept this position. It's a lot of work, not to mention dangerous."

"Again, I'm the one who should thank you, Sir," Ultra Magnus said. "And I will do anything you ask."

Orion nodded. "I will see you in three joors then." He left again. He needed to go train with Yoketron and attempt that trial again. It was so hard to let go of the things he wanted in order to reach that beacon. He wasn't so good at it in real life either, he knew. He wondered if he would regret making that oath to serve the Council.

Probably.

But he had to tell himself it was worth the risk.

* * *

"So…" Sideswipe said. "I have a question."

The big mech frowned at him in a way that said something along the lines of _sparkling, you do not want to mess with me._

The energon hall was noisy and crowded, but everyone tended to stay away from the back corner where these mecha sat.

"Well?" the mech demanded.

"I've heard about you," Sideswipe said. "You're Impactor, leader of the Wreckers, right?"

"Was that your question?"

"Um, no. How does one join the Wreckers?"

The mech narrowed his optics, and Sideswipe could feel the other mecha at the table staring at him too.

"Is there like an application? Do you have to do something awesome in a battle? I'm pretty sure my brother and I are Wrecker material."

He saw Impactor glance at Sunstreaker and raise an optic ridge.

"We're twins by the way," Sideswipe said. "Split-spark. It gives us an edge when we're—"

"Spare me the resume," Impactor said. "You join the Wreckers by invitation and unfortunately for you, you can't invite yourself."

"What if we prove ourselves?" Sideswipe said. These mecha had basically saved the army in Tesarus, and rumor had it they got to go on all kinds of cool missions. He and Sunny definitely belonged in their unit.

"Nope," Impactor said. "First off, you talk too much. Secondly, I just told you you can't invite yourself onto my team. So frag off."

"What if someone was assigned to you?" Sideswipe said. "Would you have to include them then?"

"No."

"Don't you answer to Jazz?"

"We listen to Jazz," Impactor said. "We don't _answer_ to anyone."

And that was another reason Sideswipe wanted in. "I promise you won't regret it after you see what we can do."

"Look, mechling," Impactor turned his attention back to his cube of energon. "I know your type. You're a mouthy troublemaker with an inflated helm. You aren't Wrecker material—go hang out with the other sparkling soldiers where you belong."

Sideswipe hesitated, then turned and walked away, feeling hurt. There'd been no call for _that._ And he'd show this mech he was wrong.

* * *

Springer let out a low whistle as the two mechs walked away.

"Wow," Rotostorm said. "That was a bit harsh."

Impactor nodded. "Life is harsh."

"I'm a mouthy troublemaker," Springer said. "You're not going to kick me out, are you?"

"Don't tempt me," Impactor said flatly. "But no, I've worked with you before and seen you fight, and I know you understand this isn't some kind of game."

"I'm just saying…"

"If you think there might be potential there, you can keep an optic on them and let me know," Impactor said.

Springer shrugged. "Nah, you're probably right."

* * *

Orion stepped into the crystal garden. He was surprised to see Prowl in the courtyard. He'd asked the mech to tell Yoketron he would be late for training, but he hadn't expected Prowl to come here personally.

He stood off to the side, watching the other two go through what looked like some sort of warm-up routine together.

When they finished, they both turned to look at Orion.

"Welcome," Yoketron said. "Prowl made your excuses for you, so I will forgive you for being abysmally late. Unfortunately, he's not fit for any sparring yet, so we will have to practice without him. Prowl, you are free to go."

"Thank you, Master Yoketron," Prowl bowed and left. Orion watched him go. He felt a twinge of guilt every time he saw the Praxian lately, because he really shouldn't have sent the mech to Vos. It was in the past and he had apologized, but he still felt terrible.

"How is he really?" Orion asked, once Prowl was far enough gone that he probably wouldn't be able to hear, even with doorwings.

"His wound is more severe than he pretends," Yoketron said. "But he will be all right. I don't think he's doing anything too strenuous, but he's not getting enough recharge either. I spoke with him about that, so perhaps he'll try harder to take care of himself."

Orion nodded. "Thank you."

"How about you?" Yoketron said. "I know you are not physically injured, but last time we spoke, you were quite troubled about the events in Vos."

"I'm doing better," Orion said. "I still… well, obviously I'm still horrified every time I think about what happened, but… it helps that things have been looking up since then. We rescued many prisoners last orn."

"Ah," Yoketron said. "I heard about that."

"At least _that_ all went according to plan, thanks to Jazz and his mecha."

Yoketron nodded. "You know… I am glad Jazz has finally decided to use his talents for good, though I'd still be careful of him if I were you."

"I trust him," Orion said.

"I don't doubt his intentions as much as I doubt his judgment," Yoketron said. "But we aren't here to discuss your choice in commanding officers. How much time do you have this orn?"

"I should be able to attempt the trial once or twice after training," Orion said.

"Good. Then let us begin by meditating for a few breems."

After they were done meditating, Yoketron taught him a few new circuit-su techniques and they practiced for a while. It was easier to learn when sparring with Prowl, and Orion had missed that since the Praxian had been injured.

But practicing Circuit-Su was better than the trials.

Too soon, Yoketron called a halt.

"You are not doing as well as I would like," he said. "But, then again, you don't have much time for practicing."

Orion sighed. "Do you think I'll ever be good at it? Fighting, I mean?"

"I think you will," Yoketron said. "If you learn to use your cleverness, you can outmaneuver opponents who are stronger or faster than you. And coordination will come with practice. The Matrix will help with it too."

Orion nodded. It seemed like the Matrix came up lately whenever he complained to Yoketron of not feeling adequate.

Now that he had sworn an oath to the Council, he ought to redouble his efforts to talk them into giving him the key to Vector Sigma ahead of time. He would feel much more comfortable with it in his possession.

"Orion?"

"Just thinking," Orion said.

"About what?"

Orion shook his helm. "Receiving the Matrix. I need the key to Vector Sigma."

"You can cross that bridge when you get there," Yoketron said. "Though I do admit it would be better if Councilor Halogen didn't have the key."

"I know."

"For now, let us consider the tasks at hand. You have not been making much progress on this trial."

"I'm sorry," Orion said. "But it's so hard to turn my back on mecha who need my help."

"I understand that," Yoketron said.

"And…" Orion said. "The beacon seems so arbitrary…"

"I was speaking to Maccadam last orn," Yoketron said. "And I brought up the fact that you were struggling with this trial."

"What did he say?" Orion asked.

"He said to tell you this," Yoketron met his optics. "If you reach the beacon, all of those mecha will be safe."

Orion thought about that.

"There's more than a little truth to that statement," Yoketron continued. "It's just a simulation to begin with. Think of that beacon as a larger goal—a solution that will solve all of your smaller problems."

"Like defeating Megatron would end the war?" Orion asked.

"You could make that analogy, yes," Yoketron said. "Though, as I'm sure you know, that situation is a little more complicated. Remember, this is merely a trial. Don't over-think it. Focus on your goal and tell yourself that once you reach it, everything else in the trial will work out."

Orion nodded.

"Are you ready to begin?"

Orion took in a deep vent. "I think so."

* * *

Mainspring had commed him four times. Mirage was finally fed up with it, and he answered. "I presume you want me to come talk to you."

There was silence for a moment. _"Well, yes."_

"And you're not going to leave me alone, are you? I'm telling you, I'm fine."

" _I just want to talk to you."_

Mirage sighed heavily. "I'll be there in a breem." He cut the comm.

It had been two orns since he'd been rescued. He really was fine now… sometimes. Sometimes he'd go talk to Blurr or other mecha he knew, and feel normal, and other times he wanted nothing more than to disappear for several joors. He was generally in a bad mood still, but he attributed that to the fact that he was having a hard time recharging, so he was tired.

But either way, Mainspring had no right to pester him so much.

He stormed through the halls and didn't talk to anyone until he got to Mainspring's office, where he opened the door without bothering to request entry and walked in.

The door slid shut behind him, and Mainspring looked up from his desk.

"I really don't appreciate this, you know," Mirage said. "I know you and Jazz are worried about me, but I assure you, I am _fine."_

Mainspring took a deep vent. "Come sit down," he said.

"I will not," Mirage said. "This is my home. I don't have to let all of you stay here if I don't want and you can't tell me…" he cut himself off and looked at the ground, crossing his arms. He needed to stop letting his emotions get the better of him, but he was just so _angry_ at them for bothering him. Angry at them for caring so much... What was wrong with him?

"Mirage, of course we're worried about you," Mainspring said.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Mirage snapped, still looking at the ground.

Mainspring took his time answering. Mirage knew that his actions were not consistent with what he was saying, but he didn't care. It wasn't about convincing Mainspring he was fine, it was about convincing Mainspring to _leave him alone._

"From my limited experience, I don't think this is the sort of thing you can just shrug off, my friend."

Mirage didn't move.

"It's understandable to be angry at us for pestering you."

"I…" Mirage shuttered his optics.

"And it's understandable that you want to be left alone, and that you don't want to talk about it."

"Then why do you keep insisting that I come here?"

"Please sit down."

"I'm not falling into that trap."

Mainspring was silent for a few astroseconds. "You feel as if we're trying to trap you?"

Mirage didn't look up. "Aren't you?" he said. "Didn't you plan this? Don't you want me to sit down and spell out all my feelings so you can pick through them and examine them."

Mainspring's optics widened. "Mirage…"

"I don't need that!" Mirage said. "I don't want someone to play mind games with me so they can try to patch up my mental state! I just need you to leave me alone! I just…" Mirage realized he was standing right up against the desk, looming over Mainspring, who looked almost afraid.

Mirage leaned back and stared at the floor. Mainspring didn't say anything else for him to snap at, so after a few more astroseconds, he sank down into the chair, scowling. "Happy now?" he demanded. "I'm sitting down."

Mainspring didn't answer, and Mirage felt guilty, but not that guilty.

"Well?" he said.

"It's all right that you're angry with me, Mirage," Mainspring said. "I expected you would be."

Mirage glared at him.

"I'm not trying to fix you and I know you need time to process things."

"Then why am I here?"

"I don't care if you're angry at me," Mainspring repeated. "But I want to make sure you aren't angry at yourself."

"Why would I be angry with myself?" He had broken. He'd told the Decepticons what they'd wanted to know. Anything for a break, for the short relief that information had bought him. And now he couldn't seem to get over this. He couldn't seem to get the memories out of his helm. He was so pathetically weak.

"It's a common thing to place the blame for suffering on someone or something, and the nearest and easiest target is often oneself."

"Don't spout nonsense at me."

"Are you angry at yourself?"

"What do you think?" Mirage said through gritted denta.

Mainspring didn't answer, just watched him in a calm, expectant sort of way.

Well, Mirage's dignity had completely abandoned him and he'd been acting like a sparkling since leaving his room. He didn't have anything to lose. "I…" he took a deep vent in and looked down at his hands. "I thought I'd be able to… if something like that happened, I'd be stronger. I broke so easily. I… Not only was my mission a complete waste of time, I almost gave Megatron a second telepath. We're just lucky that Jazz anticipated my failure and moved Blaster," he finished bitterly.

"Mirage, I think…"

"Don't try to tell me I had unrealistic expectations… believe me, I found that out."

"Do you know how long you'd been a prisoner when the Decepticons showed up to look for Blaster?"

Mirage didn't answer.

"It was more than an orn after your report indicates that Soundwave caught you. So, unless the Decepticons decided to wait quite a while before going to kidnap him, you did a lot better than you think. If you'd told them right away, we wouldn't have had time to move him."

Mirage buried his faceplate in his hands.

"Don't be angry at yourself. You didn't fail, and you certainly didn't do anything wrong. I'm willing to be patient with you and let you work through everything on your own, but only if you're willing to be patient with yourself."

Mirage took in a deep, slow vent.

"All right?"

He sighed. "All right."

"Good," Mainspring said.

"I'm… sorry for being rude," Mirage said.

"I forgive you," Mainspring smiled kindly. "I hope expressing your frustration made you feel a little better."

"It did," Mirage admitted. "Though I won't thank you because I still resent you for planning this." He sighed again. "At the same time, I've probably sulked long enough." He got up. "Do you need me for anything else?"

Mainspring shook his helm. "No, unless there's anything else you want to talk about."

"Maybe in a few more orns," Mirage said, then turned his mod on and headed for the door.

He felt exhausted, but he had to admit it was a more pleasant kind of exhaustion than before. It was the kind of exhaustion that might just lead to him getting some actual recharge.

* * *

Inferno sat down at the table and set his datapad down in front of him. They'd started meeting in Red Alert's office, though he was pretty sure that was because there wasn't an unused, secure room, due to how crowded this tower was.

"Okay," he said, when Red Alert didn't start the conversation. "I was thinking about the west wing, and we might want to move the entrances to make it easier to evacuate. Have you seen the building site? I stopped by after we talked last orn, to make sure everything was going right. I had to point out a few things to the head of the construction crew there, but I think it's all fixed now."

"Good," Red Alert said, though he sounded somewhat distracted… that was unusual.

Inferno looked up. "What?" he said.

Red Alert shook his helm. "Show me where you want to put the doors."

Inferno pulled up the schematics for the new Autobot base and spun the datapad around. He enlarged the virtual version of the building and pointed out the places where he didn't think the entrances provided the best possibilities for evacuation, explaining what he wanted to change, and why. Red Alert agreed with most of it, but there were a few doors he wanted to keep where they were for various reasons.

They talked it over for several breems, and then made some decisions. Inferno would go update the mech in charge of construction after their meeting. They'd keep an open external comm. going as well, so Red Alert could listen in on that conversation.

It was a little excessive, maybe, but Inferno didn't really think of it as an invasion of privacy, just a way for Red Alert to have some presence at the construction site without actually having to travel there.

"Was there anything else?" Red Alert asked.

"Yes, actually," Inferno said. "I might have brought this up before, but I wanted to get your opinion again on some of the ventilation shafts. Our current plan for them makes them large enough that a small mech could crawl inside of them. I feel like that makes infiltration more possible. I mean, if we're careful, and monitor them, then maybe we could catch someone trying to get in. But if we make them smaller…"

"A symbiot could still get in," Red Alert said. "And if we make them small enough that the smallest symbiots can't get in, then we don't have much ventilation. Health codes are important."

"Yes," Inferno said. "That is true."

"We can put cameras in them," Red Alert said. "That's what we did in Perceptor's house. I've thought of this too. The vents can double as secret passages. We can also build utility tunnels underneath to do the same. The most important thing to control is where you can and can't exit the facility. We need to be able to keep a spy out. Once a spy's in, you want to keep the spy in and capture him."

"Right," Inferno said. "I'll double check all of the exits and entrances. We should build in a protocol that locks the place down and closes off all vents and entrances."

"That's a good idea," Red Alert said. "We need a failsafe, though—just in case that's ever used against us."

"Of course," Inferno said. "I'll work on plans for that. So do you want to get rid of some of the other passages that we had planned since you're going to use the vents as secret passages?"

"A few of them," Red Alert looked kind of distant again. "I'll… look at the schematics again and make a decision."

Silence fell.

"Is… everything okay?" Inferno asked.

"Yes," Red Alert said. "Well, no, but we're having a war, so of course not everything's okay. But before we talk more about the schematics for the base…"

Inferno waited for him to continue. Red Alert was watching him carefully. He looked a little bit frightened. That was fairly normal, but something about this felt different.

"Now this project's nearing completion, you're nearing the end of your usefulness. I won't need you to work for me as an architect after the base is built."

Inferno hadn't thought about that. As amazing as it would be to see his blueprint become an actuality, he would kind of miss the challenge of building it. This project had been the most interesting thing he'd ever worked on in his life.

"However, I _am_ actually looking for trustworthy mecha to help me run the security around here."

In fact, he doubted he'd ever get to design a building as cool as… wait. "What?"

"I'm offering to promote you to second in command of security," Red Alert said, shooting him a suspicious glare. "Please don't think this means I trust you… I just… trust you more than anyone else who isn't already busy doing something else. Besides, you've got a knack for noticing security threats."

"Really?" Inferno said. "I… I don't know."

He glanced at Red Alert and saw a well-hidden hint of desperation in the other mech's optics. "I know I'm not the easiest mech to work with, but I have no one else in my department besides security guards, who don't really have clearance for much. It's just me. And if something happens to me…"

"Sorry, I'm not saying no—you just surprised me," Inferno said. "Let me think about this for a breem. You want me to be second in command of security? I… I'm honored… are you sure I'm qualified, though?"

"Yes," Red Alert said. "Believe me, you're more qualified than anyone else I've considered. You're inexperienced, but you're intelligent, and that's almost better in some ways. I need an answer now, though."

Inferno glanced over at the monitor screens that lined one wall, then looked back at Red Alert. He had pledged his spark to this cause. He hadn't really expected to use his skills as an architect, and had been ecstatic when he'd been given the opportunity to do that. This was something different, though. This was a lot more responsibility, and probably a lot more work.

It would probably be more interesting and less life-threatening than a career as a soldier, though. "Okay," he said. "I'm in. I'll do it." He could hardly believe the words leaving his lip plates.

"Good," Red Alert said. "Unfortunately, we don't have a room for you _in_ the tower unless we want to put you down in Mirage's vaults, which he usually gets upset about. But I'll expect you to be here every orn. Right now, you'll still mostly be working on the new base project, but I'll start training you on other things as well."

"Starting this orn?" Inferno said.

"Yes," Red Alert said.

"Sounds good," Inferno said.

"And we'll make your position official at the meeting this orn, which you will be attending." He shot Inferno another suspicious look that said clearly he would be watching carefully.

That was okay. Inferno didn't really have anything to hide, so he wasn't really worried.

From advisory architect to second in command of the security department in one orn.

That was quite a leap.

* * *

Vos was about to fall.

Orion just had to reach the engine room in time to stop the charges from blowing. He could stop this—he could prevent it from happening.

Prowl's message had played seven breems ago. He still had three breems.

He got to the doors, but they were locked.

"Hey!" someone shouted and Orion turned to see a seeker running toward him. "What are you doing?"

"Megatron has planted bombs in your city's engines," Orion explained. "We have to find and defuse them before it's too late."

"Don't even think about it," the seeker sneered as two more came around the corner and sprinted toward Orion. "I know you're really here to tamper with the engines yourself. We've checked them already and there are no bombs. Besides why would Megatron ruin his relationship with Vos? You're the one trying to sabotage us."

"No," Orion said as the other seekers reached him and grabbed his arms. "You have to believe me. You—"

Suddenly, Orion was in a colorless room, facing an annoyed-looking teal mech.

"Well, that was pathetic," Micronus said.

Orion sighed as reality settled in. That had been a trial. He'd barely even started heading toward the beacon before Prowl's message had played and he'd completely forgotten about everything but preventing the fall of Vos.

"You've got one more attempt," Micronus said. "Might as well give it up—at this rate, you won't be a Prime for ten vorns."

Orion didn't have that time.

He had to finish the trial now. This orn. He had one last attempt before he returned to the real world. "Give me an astrosecond to collect myself," he said.

He was going to finish this time.

"No," Micronus snapped. "Follow me." He walked through the toneless wall. Orion sighed and followed him.

He was standing on the plains between Tarn and Doradus, watching Vos fall in the distance.

He had been too late.

Despair colored his core. The city was falling. The seekers…

The beacon.

He turned quickly, looking for it.

There it was, in the exact opposite direction from Vos.

The falling city demanded his attention. It was almost mesmerizing to watch. But Orion turned away from it with effort and set out toward the beacon instead, running.

It was hard to tell himself that Vos would be fine if he just reached the beacon, since he knew it was already too late to save the city.

But telling himself there was nothing he could do seemed to work almost as well.

He heard a seeker's engine behind him and steeled himself. He couldn't allow anything to distract him. He had to reach that beacon this time.

The seeker flew past him and landed in front of him, blocking his way. "Optimus Prime!" the mech said. "The Council will speak with you now. They want to hear your side of the story."

The Council would speak with him…

But he needed to get to that beacon. He didn't have time.

He kept going. The seeker kept pace, begging first, then growing angry. He shouted that it was Orion's fault the seekers didn't trust him—his fault they were going to join Megatron.

It _was_ his fault.

Because he hadn't moved against his former friend when he'd had a chance.

He couldn't make that mistake here. He had to keep going toward the beacon.

More seekers appeared—some injured and in need of help, some angry. Alpha Trion showed up and ordered him to turn back and do his duty as a Prime by helping the mecha of Vos.

Then, off to the side, he saw a shuttle falling from the sky.

That was Tradewind.

He hesitated as he watched her drop. She was going too fast. What was wrong?

They had to pull up or they were going to crash.

He knew somehow that she was carrying his friends. Ironhide was on that transport.

Elita was on that transport.

With monumental effort, he kept his pedes moving toward the beacon. He reached out to Elita over their bond, though. He had to keep walking, but he wanted to be there for her too.

A distant crash heralded Tradewind's collision. Orion felt pain over the bond, and stumbled, but kept going. Elita was hurt. She was dying. He could feel it.

She begged him for help, pleaded with him to come find her.

He stopped.

What was he doing? He could save her if he just went back and pulled her from the wreckage. He didn't want to lose her again.

He couldn't lose her again.

He turned to the side…

And felt peace over the bond. A second set of emotions.

The real Elita.

This was a trial.

Orion took in a deep vent and continued toward the beacon. The false emotions from the trial Elita disappeared and his way was clear again.

But not for long.

"Optimus Prime!" High Councilor Halogen barred his way. "We demand to speak with you."

"I don't have time," he muttered as he hurried past the mech and the other members of the Iacon Council who stood behind him.

"Not one more step!" Halogen said. "Or we will publish your oath for the whole world to read."

Orion froze.

"You wouldn't want them to know you were lying all along about being in league with us." Halogen said.

Orion spun. "I am not in league with you."

"That's not what it will look like to them," Halogen said. "In fact, have you even told any of your friends about your oath?"

Orion looked down.

"I wonder what they will think about it."

"You know the oath means very little until the war is over," Orion said. "What do you want from me?"

"We have thought of a way to get rid of Megatron and end the war quickly. Surely you can't claim that interferes with the Autobot cause."

That… could be a problem. Orion turned away from the grand councilmech and saw the beacon.

The beacon.

Oh no…

Orion sprinted away from them toward it. Buildings rose up out of nowhere, and a crowd of mecha materialized in the streets, shouting at him, accusing him of lying, of selling out to the Council. He did his best to ignore them and hurried to get to the beacon.

He got close enough to see the device that was sending the great beam of light up into the atmosphere, but not close enough to touch it.

The world dissolved around him and then rearranged into the crystal garden.

Orion slumped forward, defeated.

"Well?" Master Yoketron said.

"I came so close." Orion realized he was shaking. "On the last try, at least."

And it had been so stupid. It had been Halogen, of all mecha. This time, Orion had failed for selfish reasons—because he'd wanted to protect his public image.

"What stopped you?" Master Yoketron asked.

Of course he would ask. Orion didn't know what to tell him. He didn't want to admit that he'd made an agreement with the Council without consulting his friends. "I… it's not important."

"Really?" Yoketron raised an optic ridge.

"It was… the Council. Trying to blackmail me. I can't believe I fell for that. It wasn't even helping other mecha this time, it was just helping myself."

Yoketron sighed and sat down across from him.

"I'm…"

"Disappointed in yourself?" Yoketron asked.

Orion nodded, fighting back a wave of bitter shame in his core.

"It is understandable to be frightened of the Council," Yoketron said. "But you must remember, they don't own you."

Orion squeezed his optics shut. In a way, they did own him now. "But… they think they do."

The was a smile in Yoketron's voice. "If so, then they are fools," he said. "The Iacon Council is destined for the scrap heap, and its members know that, which is why they are trying so desperately to cling to the last semblance of their power. Orion, it doesn't matter what they threaten, I promise they're more afraid of you than you are of them. Don't forget that."

That was only somewhat comforting.

"Thank you, Master Yoketron." Orion stood. "I… should go."

"Very well. I will see you next orn."

Orion turned and left the crystal garden.

* * *

Shockwave looked up when Megatron entered the room. He knew he was not working as quickly as the other mech wanted. But he also hadn't received all of the materials that he had asked for, so some of his projects were impossible to work on at the moment.

"Good orn, Lord Megatron," he said.

"Shockwave," Megatron said. "You seem to keep yourself busy, but I haven't seen a single weapon come out of your research."

"I have mentioned I need Decepticon volunteers," Shockwave said. "Preferably warriors."

"Yes," Megatron said. "I want to see what you have planned, though, before I let you waste my good, fighting mecha in your experiments."

Shockwave nodded. That was only fair. He went over to his computer terminal. "I have recently been investigating legends from before the Quintesson wars," he said.

"Really?" Megatron was probably surprised. He must assume that legends were not the most logical place to look for technology. But mecha before the Quintesson wars had been far more advanced than the present.

The research he was doing—he hoped it would be the bridge.

"The ancients could do many things that we have lost knowledge of," Shockwave said. "But I believe several of those will be made possible by my discoveries. This is the first thing I would like to try." He pulled up a file on the computer console and showed Megatron the schematics.

Megatron was quiet for a while, reading and watching as the schematic on the screen transformed, and then transformed back. "I have not heard legends of this," he said.

"They do exist," Shockwave said.

"Hmm…" Megatron said. "I see how this could be very useful. Not your typical weapon, but certainly an asset. You will have your volunteers. How soon can this be ready?"

"I can only give you an estimate," Shockwave said. "A few decaorns at the soonest."

"I want you to make this your top priority. I'd like to test one of those in our next battle."

"That is not advisable," Shockwave said. "This will require some core alterations, and the risk of termination is much higher if the test subjects do not have time in between operations to recover."

"Do what you can," Megatron said. "If you aren't ready by the time we go against the Autobots again, so be it, but do your best."

He left.

Shockwave went back to work.


	46. Tagan Heights

Things had been too quiet since the rescue two decaorns ago. Megatron had the seekers now, and Prowl knew the Decepticons had to be planning for an attack some time soon. But when? And would they strike somewhere new and unexpected or try for one of their neighboring cities again?

The Autobots had to be ready. Prowl had to make sure they were ready.

He checked his plans again and again. There were things they could try, ideas they had, strategies and formations and tricks. He was confident they _could_ win a battle against the seekers, but only if he was on top of everything. Only if he didn't miss anything.

The pain from his wound had faded to a level that wasn't distracting, which was nice. But it almost didn't matter because he didn't have anything important to do. He'd already reviewed his strategies many times, and until the Decepticons _did_ something, he couldn't adjust or put any of his plans into motion. While Orion had started taking a more active role in recruiting, he still stubbornly refused to go on the offensive.

Not that Prowl wanted to attack them right now—not now that the Decepticons had the seekers on their side, guarding the cities they'd already conquered. If the Autobots were going to go on the offensive, they should have done it earlier, while Megatron was still floundering. Prowl was sure he could have ended the war there and then.

Of course, they'd still have had the Council to worry about. And whoever took over the Decepticons would surely view Megatron's death as a martyrdom and use it to increase their following.

Prowl thought about what Yoketron had told him—his warnings about the war destroying both sides. He'd made it sound as if that wasn't connected to defeating Megatron, but the way Prowl saw it, if they defeated Megatron soon enough, then they wouldn't have to worry about the war destroying everything.

Prowl got a comm. from Jazz and answered it. He hoped this wasn't something trivial and useless.

" _Hey, mech,"_ Jazz said. _"The seekers have been seen leaving Kaon in large numbers, heading southeast. Thought I'd let ya know. I'll send ya some better stats when I got 'em."_

Prowl banished his musings about the war from his processor, and got up from his desk. The seekers moving almost certainly meant some sort of attack. He could run the battle just as easily from his office, and he didn't need his underlings to help, but Red Alert insisted that they all meet in the central room during battles for some unspecified safety reasons.

Probably because the elevator was off of that room or something.

It was nice that Prowl had some time to prepare for this fight, even though he didn't know exactly where it would happen. Asking the seekers to fly had been a tactical error on Megatron's part. He probably wanted to save power by reducing the number of mecha he had to groundbridge. He must have thought the Autobots wouldn't notice.

Prowl had almost reached the central room when Elita's voice came over the emergency comm. channel. _"Decepticon soldiers have been sighted in Tagan Heights. All heads of departments to the command center!"_

Tagan Heights? That was halfway around the planet from Kaon… why would the seekers have left the city, flying? They'd never get there in time to do help with the battle. Was it some sort of distraction?

...Or was Tagan Heights a distraction? Were those seekers going to attack a different city? Simfur was directly south of Kaon, but if you went southwest... the closest city in that direction was Slaughter City, which the Decepticons had already attacked once.

A double-attack. If the Decepticons drew the Autobots into defending Tagan Heights, then they could use the seekers to take the already war-weakened Slaughter City while Optimus's troops were too busy to do anything about it. Simple and clever.

Prowl spoke over the still-open comm. as he took his seat in the central room. _"Jazz, about what percentage of the seekers do we estimate flew away from Kaon?"_

" _Not sure,"_ Jazz said. _"'bout a third, maybe?"_

Then there were likely to be seekers in Tagan Heights as well. Of course there would be, or the second attack on Slaughter City wouldn't be much of a surprise since the Autobots would be wondering where the seekers were.

"Prowl?" Orion said from the center of the room, sounding worried. "We need to deploy the troops."

Prowl accepted the commanders' group comm. "Hold on," he said out loud while he synced with his computer console and the comm. hub.

Two battlefronts—and Prowl barely had enough soldiers for one, especially since the Vos fiasco had lead to a significant number of desertions from the army.

Two battlefronts, insufficient numbers, inferior air support in both places, and very little time to get into position.

Challenge accepted.

" _Prowl?"_ Optimus said, this time over the group comm.

" _They're going to attack in two places,"_ Prowl replied. _"I need to send mecha to both, and I'm still deciding how many. Elita are we clear to bridge inside the city limits of Tagan Heights?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Good,"_ Prowl sent specific instructions to Ironhide and the mecha at the groundbridge station. He would send most of them to Tagan Heights, because the immediate fighting was there, but he had to send a small force to Slaughter City as well. They could set up an ambush for when the seekers arrived.

Thankfully, no one complained—at least to him—that this seemed risky. He commed Optimus to make sure, over a private frequency.

" _Prime, if we abandon Slaughter City to the Decepticons we have a very good chance of keeping Tagan Heights. Our odds decrease if we try to defend both cities. I think I can still pull it off, but..."_

Optimus's answer was immediate. _"We will not abandon one city in order to save another."_

As he'd expected. _"Jazz,"_ Prowl said. _"I assume the seekers are going to Slaughter City, but I need you to keep an optic on it and let me know immediately if they change course."_

" _Got it,"_ Jazz said.

Prowl pulled up video feeds from Tagan Heights and established independent comms with all of the unit leaders and a few hundred individual mecha as well. He activated his battle computer and a calm settled over him as his mental capacity grew. He was one with the war, one with the battlefield, one with the game.

And it didn't matter that his opponent was playing with more powerful pieces.

Megatron had grown too used to winning.

It was time to change that.

* * *

Jazz kept tabs on the seekers heading for Slaughter City. He was listening to the comm. channels, but didn't have much to contribute. This was how battles were supposed to be. Stressful in some ways but kind of boring in others because Jazz didn't have much part in them. Battles weren't his thing. His action happened mostly in between them.

He felt a little guilty about that, but mostly relieved. He could recall the last battle with vivid, nightmarish clarity, despite all the high grade he'd tried to drown the memories in.

Directing that many mecha and listening to them go offline by tens and hundreds might have been the worst experience of his life, and that was saying something.

He'd barely thought that—the battle had only been going on a couple of breems—when Prowl commed him.

" _Jazz, the best plan to win this fight involves something I'm not familiar with. I need your expertise. Tell me what you would need in order to make it happen..."_

Jazz could barely keep up as Prowl rattled off his plan. It was crazy. Brilliant, but crazy, and nearly impossible. Jazz hesitated.

" _Can you do it? If not, I have a back-up plan, but it would help immensely."_

Jazz shuttered his optics, trying to think of a way to make it work. _"Okay, the problem with that is that we'd need the comm. codes of all the Decepticon soldiers, and there ain't no way ta get those."_

" _Are you sure? You did something similar when we were trapped in Perceptor's house."_

" _Yeah, but that was because I was hacked inta the Enforcement database,"_ Jazz said.

" _You_ what? _"_

" _Also, we were in the same building as the enforcers. It's easier ta hack a comm. when ya're close because standard comms include spark signature as a secondary code, and ya can use it ta match…"_ Jazz trailed off.

" _What?"_ Prowl said.

" _I guess… if we had a way ta get close ta enough 'Con soldiers."_

" _Our soldiers are all—"_

" _But they'd need ta take some kinda device that could read spark signatures. So ya'd need one, or a handful of soldiers who hadn't been deployed yet ta go out there and get up close ta a bunch of 'Cons without getting offlined…"_

" _Easy,"_ Prowl said. _"Is that all?"_

Jazz was skeptical, but decided to move on. _"I also need ya ta capture a couple of 'Cons, preferably field commanders, and I need a comm. adapter—two comm. adapters, actually. And it'll be best if we capture one commander from each battlefield."_

" _I can get you a bridge to Tagan Heights,"_ Prowl said. _"You can capture a field commander yourself. Anything else?"_

" _Hold on an astrosecond, ya want me ta go out on the battlefield?"_

" _Yes."_ Even Prowl's simulated voice sounded annoyed. _"Don't worry, I won't put you anywhere you're likely to get killed."_

Jazz remembered energon-covered floors, screams in the darkness cut off by his knife, explosions, enforcers lying offline in an alleyway, Branchbinder's optics finally going out... _"Prowl, I promised I'd never kill anymech again."_

Prowl didn't answer for a few moments, though Jazz wasn't sure whether he was actually considering that or whether he was just too busy for the moment to respond.

" _Right now, I am your commanding officer, and you will do as I say. Do you need anything else to accomplish your objective?"_

" _Half a breem ta get some stuff from my office."_ Jazz said, getting up from his chair in the central room and scowling at the back of the Praxian's helm. _"But that's it."_

" _When you're ready, let me know. We'll bridge you to the station where the Autobot seekers will be waiting for you to give them instructions. They should be able to get close to their kin without arousing suspicion."_

Right. Those seekers who'd come to talk to Orion. That could actually work. He left the room, comming Glyph on his way out. The femme was almost as good at hacking as he was, and he was going to be too busy to do the desk work himself.

Part of Jazz had wanted to keep arguing about going to Tagan Heights. But he knew what it was like to be in Prowl's place, directing the battle, and he wanted to respect that. Besides, he'd known for a while now that he couldn't keep that promise forever.

He'd try, but a battlefield wasn't the place to pull your punches.

* * *

Ironhide stared at the swarming seekers above. Instead of groundbridging everyone to the same place, Prowl had opted to bridge units to different locations around the city, which took more time, and more processor power, but Ironhide could already see it paying off as plasma shots flew from the top floors of buildings, knocking seekers down from the sky.

Ironhide forced himself to look away from the fighting up there. He needed to be here, mentally as well as physically, on the ground.

Of course, they also needed to watch out for the seekers firing on them from above. Right now they were sheltered, but as soon as the Decepticons broke through the Autobot line, which wouldn't be too long, Ironhide and the unit he was with would have to go out into the open and fight. He didn't know the extent of Prowl's plan, but it seemed a lot like the first one. Hold the Decepticons off as long as they could and then Prowl would pull something out of his subspace pockets and turn the tables.

This time, though, the Decepticons outnumbered them by even more, and they had so many seekers...

" _The Decepticons will break through in a few astroseconds,"_ Prowl told him. _"Be ready—they'll probably run right past where you're sheltered and you can hit them from the side."_

" _Got it."_

" _Make sure it's the Decepticons running past, though, before you start shooting, not a group of retreating Autobots."_

" _Heh._ That's _never happened before."_

" _Actually, we had trouble with it in the Tesarus—"_

" _Sarcasm, Prowl. Don't worry, I'll be careful."_

" _What? Oh, fine."_

Ironhide shook his helm. Focus. He'd been spending too much time around Jazz.

The line buckled. Ironhide commed his unit and relayed instructions to them. He got reports in from around the city, letting him know how things were going elsewhere. This already didn't look so good, but he trusted Prowl now, and if the Praxian thought they could win this one, he wasn't going to give up on it.

* * *

Ratchet waited with the others. They had about ten full-time Autobot medics now, though most of the mecha gathered here in the makeshift Autobot groundbridge station were from a nearby hospital. There were still a few soldiers and other mecha coming and going. Jazz had come through a breem ago and, at Prowl's insistence, Ratchet had very reluctantly loaned him some medical equipment he _did not_ trust the Polyhexian ex-gangster with.

Listening to the chatter over the command comm. Ratchet could tell the battle wasn't going so well. He wished Prowl would send the order for them to move already. He itched to get out there. Mecha were dying and he could do something about it.

He looked up and met the optics of the assistant director of the hospital. Pharma nodded slightly with a small, encouraging smile. Ratchet looked away. He still felt inadequate sometimes—after all, he had never graduated from the Academy. Sometimes he thought someone who had more skill and experience should be CMO of the Autobots. Of course, he'd never _relinquish_ his job because then he'd have to trust someone _else_ to keep his stupid, stupid friends from dying when they got themselves blown to pieces.

And he was improving, thanks to the experience of the medics he was working with. He had learned more about repairing mecha in the past few quartexes than all his vorns as a student.

Prowl's voice came over his comm. _"Ratchet, prepare for deployment. You and your mecha know what to do."_

" _Thanks. We're ready,"_ Ratchet said.

Reason dictated that he stay behind. Reason dictated that he wait in case Ironhide was hurt again, or someone else higher up in the chain of command. Reason dictated he stay away from the battlefield.

But he couldn't. He couldn't stand by while mecha were being hurt, and he couldn't stand by while other medics worked on them. Besides, when it came to fighting, he could handle himself better than most of the medics out there.

The mech operating the ground bridge entered coordinates and the bridge opened in front of the group of medics.

"Alpha Team with me," Ratchet said. "Beta team, get ready. We're going to do this like we did last time, you know the drill. Let's go!"

He led half the medics through the bridge. They'd leave the bridge open for the duration of the battle. It was safer to send injured mecha through, but sometimes you only had astroseconds to do something before they offlined, and so they needed medics on the field as well, to save those they could.

On the other side of the bridge was a wide open room with a door to the outside. Perfect for setting up triage. And mecha were already bringing the injured soldiers in, thanks to Prowl and his perfect timing.

Ratchet could hear the sounds of battle, outside the building. They were closer to the action this time.

He barked orders, but they were almost unnecessary. The other medics knew what to do. An older white and blue femme stationed herself at the doorway to sort and make judgment calls, and Ratchet moved to the front to receive one of the first injured mecha.

He knew some of them wondered why he didn't station himself at the door, whether he trusted his judgment, whether he doubted himself. He didn't. He could probably do almost as well as that femme at making assignments and sorting the injured, deciding who would stay, and who would be carried through the bridge back to Iacon immediately.

But Ratchet didn't want that job. He might be in charge, but he was a medic before he was an administrator. Always.

* * *

"Wow," Sideswipe said. "They're getting slaughtered down there."

"Pay attention!" their unit leader snapped. Sunstreaker aimed carefully and fired, knocking a seeker out of the sky. He wasn't sure how he felt about being assigned to the small team stationed in this building. He'd rather be down where the real fighting was happening, and he knew his brother felt the same way.

Still, it was kind of satisfying, shooting the seekers down.

It would be nice if Sideswipe would _get his helm in the game_ though.

He watched out of the corner of his optic as his red twin raised the heavy-duty gun he'd been given and then lowered it again, staring out the window.

"What are you doing!" the unit leader demanded. "Don't just stand there, shoot at them!"

Sunstreaker went back to focusing on his targets. He fired again, and hit again. The seekers were flying ridiculously close to where they were. It wasn't hard to hit them if you timed it right. He sent a private comm. to Sideswipe. _"I'm beating you. Five to one."_

" _Not for long,"_ Sideswipe said, in a way that meant he was about to do something crazy and probably dangerous.

Sunstreaker frowned. That was a bad sign.

"Hey! Red mech!" the leader of the group said. "Are you even listening?"

Sideswipe subspaced the gun, shot a quick smirk over his shoulder, then put a pede up on the windowsill of the open window. "Hey, Sunny, watch this," he said, then leaped out.

"Wha…" the leader of their group said, but Sunstreaker had already lowered his weapon and stuck his helm out the window to look down and see…

Sideswipe. Riding a seeker.

Pit…

All right then.

"Did he just…" the mech in charge rushed over to the window to look out.

Sunstreaker waited for one of them to fly close enough.

Then he vaulted over the windowsill and dropped down. He felt the energon churn in his tanks as he dropped, but kept his cool, trusting that he'd timed it right. He landed hard on a seeker, and just barely managed to hold on as the Decepticon lurched and swerved.

Of all the stupid things…

The seeker cried out and flew in wild circles, breaking formation and nearly crashing into its neighbors as it tried to throw Sunstreaker off. Sunstreaker held on, gripping his ride's wings tightly. He tried to keep his balance as the world spun out of control. If this thing didn't stop fragging spinning they were going to crash.

Sideswipe commed him. _"Isn't this fun?"_

" _You lunatic."_

" _You can control them,"_ Sideswipe said. _"Think about how they fly. Get a good grip on them and take over their center of gravity so they'll lose control if they don't move with you."_

The seeker he was on was still trying to get rid of him. But he hadn't hit anything, so he must be in control of himself. Sunstreaker shuttered his optics, trying to feel which way was up and which was down, where the seeker was going, what his flight patterns were…

His optics snapped open and he stayed focused, waiting. The next time they came close to a building, Sunstreaker threw his weight to one side. The seeker screamed and darted away from the building they were about to crash into, then steadied in the air long enough for Sunstreaker to shift his weight and get in a better position.

He saw Sideswipe in the distance, clinging to his seeker with one hand, while his other arm was shifted to his integrated arm cannon. Sunstreaker's brother flew toward a nearby group of seekers, firing on them as he went.

"Get off!" The seeker underneath Sunstreaker yelled.

Sunstreaker grinned and pulled up on one of the seeker's wings, dragging him toward another group of flyers and scattering their formation.

" _Ten to five, my lead,"_ Sideswipe said.

Not for long.

* * *

Silverbolt was grateful that he wasn't being asked to kill any seekers personally, though he was still somewhat uncomfortable with this and he knew his brothers were too.

He, Air Raid, and Jazz came out the other side of the groundbridge onto an empty street, though the sound of weapons fire and screaming and explosions wasn't too far away, and seekers swarmed the sky.

"Okay," Jazz said. "Ya two understand what ya're supposed ta do?"

"Hold these, out of subspace," he held up the small, rectangular device Jazz had given him. "Blend in with the other seekers, fly near them, don't shoot at them, just get close to as many as possible."

"Ya got it," Jazz said. "Good luck up there."

Silverbolt nodded. He and Air Raid transformed and flew up to join the nearest group of seekers. The other three had been sent to Slaughter City instead. Silverbolt didn't like that his friends were being split up, but he understood that they needed to be in both places for this to work.

* * *

Jazz drove through the streets of the city at unsafe speeds, listening as Prowl directed him, keeping him away from the conflict for now. He sounded a little distracted over the comm. Jazz wondered how many conversations he was carrying on at once. That had to give you a processor ache, even with a battle computer.

" _You're going to need to get behind enemy lines,"_ Prowl said. _"I've got a small unit waiting for you. You'll take command of them, and they'll help you get through. You only need a ground-based Decepticon officer, right?"_

" _Yeah, that'll work,"_ Jazz said.

" _Good. Turn left, then take the second right. You're going to hit some fighting soon. Just get past it."_

Jazz skidded around the corner and sped up.

The sound of explosions and plasma fire got louder, and then he rounded another corner. Smoke filled the atmosphere, and he could see fighting on the second level as well, but not as much. He took a turn and went down a ramp, trying to stay behind the Autobots so he wasn't in anyone's line of fire. He felt a twinge of guilt just rushing past while these mecha fought for their lives, but he brushed it off. What he was trying to do would be more helpful than getting involved.

He felt kind of shaky, still, once he was driving on quieter streets again. He'd never actually _been_ in a battle before.

He kept following Prowl's instructions until he got to a place where six other Autobots were crouched down behind a building as weapons-fire arced past.

" _This unit isn't very experienced, but they were in the Tesarus battle, and they're good at following orders and working together. I'm sending you the route you should try to take, and a few alternatives if it doesn't work out."_

Jazz wondered if Prowl knew the strengths and weaknesses of every unit individually.

He wouldn't be surprised.

He knelt down by them as one of them ducked out and fired up at the sky, then ducked back behind the building quickly.

"Ya ready sir?" a brown and green mech said.

Jazz nodded, recognizing the mech's accent. "Ya from sector seventeen?"

"Yeah," the mech grinned. "Ya too, huh?"

Jazz nodded. That sector of Polyhex was the only place you got that particular accent from. "Yep. Okay, let's go. Follow me, and we'll talk over a comm. on the way." _"Prowl, could ya give me their comm. codes?"_

Prowl sent them in less than an astrosecond, and Jazz opened up a comm channel including all of them. Jazz followed the map Prowl had sent him, and they went through buildings and down empty roads, while Jazz got to know these mechs a little and briefed them some more on what they were trying to accomplish. He didn't tell them all the details, but he told them enough that they understood the whole battle hinged on this.

He stayed in contact with Prowl too, until they got to the end of the map, which was down on the second level. They could hear fighting above them, but it sounded a little farther away.

" _Wait for a bit,"_ Prowl said. _"They're right above you. I'll see if I can find a way to distract them a little so you'll have a better chance to get to your target. Once you've got him, send me your coordinates, and I'll send you a bridge."_

" _Got it,"_ Jazz said, and came to a stop. The others followed his lead. _"We're waiting for a good opportunity."_ He said over his group comm. with them. _"Commander Prowl's gonna tell us when. See those stairs? We'll run up them, and he'll send us all the exact coordinates of our target."_

They all responded that they understood. Some of them seemed nervous, including the Polyhexian mech from Jazz's sector, who happened to be the unit leader.

"I wonder if we know any of the same mecha," Jazz said, trying to lighten the mood, and always ready to make new friends. "What part of the sector are ya from?"

"South part, down by the acid river," the mech said.

"Huh. I know where that is."

"I'd have been younger than ya, though," the mech said. "I'm just outta secondary."

"Really?" Jazz said. This mech was already the commander of his unit… then again, Jazz was ridiculously young for his position too.

" _Change of plans, he's moving away from your position, and we're running out of time."_ Prowl said. _"You move now."_ He sent the coordinates.

" _I'll take point,"_ the Polyhexian mech said, and started up the stairs.

Jazz followed him, shifting one arm into a gun. Here was the part he was dreading. He might need to kill… The others trailed after him. Jazz steeled himself for whatever was up there.

They burst out at the top of the stairs, already firing, running toward the coordinates Prowl had sent. The nearby Decepticons seemed surprised at first, but it wasn't too long before they returned fire, closing in on Jazz's little group. In astroseconds, plasma fire was cutting through the atmosphere in every direction, and they were being attacked on all sides by the enemy. They stayed in tight formation and kept moving, though Jazz saw several of the mecha in the unit fall. He heard Decepticons shouting at each other not to use guns because they were missing and hitting other Decepticons. He kept following the unit leader, even as he fired a couple of stun shots to the side, taking down two 'Cons.

And then suddenly he was in front. He glanced to the other side, to see a Decepticon yank a long energon blade out of the young Polyhexian's chest plating. He saw the mech's optics go dark, and the small burst of spark energy come from the open wound.

Dead.

Jazz skidded to a stop, just for a moment, as shock and horror overwhelmed his core. And then that faded as the anger took over.

* * *

Ironhide and his mecha surged forward. They'd taken back this little corner of the city at least, giving some of his mecha an opportunity to take the injured Autobots and transport them to the nearby medical station.

He knew things weren't going so well in other places in the city, but he could hold this position for a while.

The Decepticons were even retreating, which… actually seemed suspicious. Ironhide ordered his mechs to stand down, fearing an ambush.

The Decepticons left a few mechs standing out in the open. Ironhide frowned. _"Prowl, you know what the pit this is?"_

" _I don't,"_ Prowl said. _"Maybe start firing at those mecha, though, because they're probably up to something."_

Ironhide raised his arm cannon.

"Now!" one of the stranded Decepticons shouted, and the others all leaped at him and…

Ironhide's optics widened and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The mechs transformed _into_ each other, merging into an absolutely enormous mech-shaped _thing._

Oh frag…

They—it—roared and stomped forward toward Autobot lines. It stood at least three or four times as tall as Ironhide. The Decepticons standing behind it cheered, and started firing past it at the Autobots again.

" _Prowl?"_

" _I see it,"_ Prowl said. _"I still can't explain it, but I see it. Aim for its helm and its legs, and see if you can bring it down. I'll send help your way if it proves to be as powerful as the Decepticons seem to think."_

The giant grabbed a toll booth with a long spire on the top from the side of the road, ripped it up out of the ground and _threw_ it at the Autobots. Mecha dove out of the way—the ones that were fast enough at least. He could hear the screams of those who were hit and crushed by it. Many of his mecha fired at the monster, but they were also under heavy fire from the Decepticons and the seekers above them.

" _Fall back!"_ Ironhide shouted over the comm. _"Get behind buildings. Shoot it from all sides to confuse it and don't let it get too close."_ They were going to lose some ground, but Ironhide didn't want to lose more of his mecha than absolutely necessary while they fought this thing. Prowl sent him a quick comm. approving his decision to retreat, and promising to help his mecha re-locate to safer locations.

The giant charged forward, chasing the retreating Autobots.

* * *

Prowl gripped the sides of the desk his computer console sat on, shuttering his optics for a moment, even as he issued orders to more than a hundred separate soldiers and groups of soldiers. He'd also just received news that the Seekers were going to reach Slaughter City in less than five breems, and then he'd have twice the directing to do. Things were not going as well as he'd hoped. No one had anticipated this… this war machine that had somehow built itself out of mecha. Not only was it powerful, it had frightened off the Autobot soldiers, and broken through the lines in a place where they could _not_ afford to break. It was too close to the medics. If it reached their makeshift hospital, there would be terrible consequences. It needed to be stopped before then, but Prowl had no idea how to stop it. He didn't want to simply throw soldiers at it to distract it. He couldn't _afford_ to do that, even if he'd been willing to sacrifice the mecha.

He could try to evacuate the medics. Ratchet wouldn't like that, but he'd understand. They could set up somewhere else.

The giant had a gun out now—what looked like an enormous rocket launcher. It fired at a group of Autobots, and there was an explosion big enough that it rocked the camera Prowl was watching from.

He forced himself to devote more attention to other parts of the battle, which were also not going well. The Autobot seekers were all right, but neither Jazz nor any of the mecha from his unit were responding. Prowl didn't even want to think about the possibility that they might have failed.

He might still be able to pull off a win, even without Jazz's role, but it wouldn't be tidy, and he'd have to stop this giant first. He had some of the wreckers on the way, but they might not be fast enough, and even worse, they might not be able to do anything. The many plasma blasts that had hit it hadn't seemed to do very much.

" _Prowl, how are we doing?"_ Optimus sounded very worried.

" _Don't give up yet,"_ Prowl said. _"But we_ do _need to turn the tide soon."_

He could still win this… but if he did, would the cost in lives be worth it?

Yoketron's words rang in his audios.

Don't let the war win.

Not now. He couldn't doubt himself now. Every tiny distraction cost him lives. If the war was the enemy, then he needed to be at peak performance level to defeat it.

* * *

Jazz wasn't in motion, he _was_ motion. He fought with energon-covered blades, crashing through Decepticons, dodging and striking, taking them down two at a time, watching the surprise in their optics before the light went out.

They closed in on him at first, but he cut them down as they came, anticipating their attacks, using them against each other.

Every once in a while, he caught a glimpse of his target and he let that drive him forward.

The Decepticon soldiers started running from him, clearing his path.

Good.

He saw the mech he was after, and the mech saw him, turned, transformed, and fled. Jazz followed suit, racing after him, closing the distance before the Decepticon had even gone around the corner. He crashed into the mech from behind, sending him spinning to the side. Both of them transformed back to root mode and Jazz leaped on top of the other mech, raising a dagger.

The mech didn't even say anything, just stared, frozen, horrified.

Wait.

His mission hadn't been to kill this mech.

Jazz felt like someone had dumped a bucket of coolant on him. He lowered the knife slightly, and then set his gun to stun and knocked the Decepticon out. Then he turned and looked behind himself.

The bodies of offline and unconscious Decepticons littered the little clearing, and all was still and silent. One of the mecha from the unit he'd been with was standing in the middle of the sea of death, staring at him, looking almost as horrified as the Decepticon officer he'd captured.

Jazz subspaced his knife and looked down at his energon-covered hands.

He realized Prowl had been trying to contact him. He took in a deep vent and commed back. _"Prowler, we got the 'Con, I need that bridge now. Here's my coordinates."_

Then to the mech still standing, he spoke out loud. "Hey, see if any of the others in the unit are still alive." His voice sounded surprisingly calm despite how shaken he felt.

"Right," the mech said, tearing his gaze away from Jazz.

"Get them down ta the lower levels. I don't know if ya can get them all the way ta the med camp, so just hide somewhere, and we'll pick ya up after the battle's over." They were still behind enemy lines after all. Jazz didn't want to risk this mech trying to get back to the Autobots. He also didn't want to bring him with, into another soon-to-be war zone.

The mech nodded.

A groundbridge opened nearby.

Jazz dragged the unconscious Decepticon through it.


	47. Comm Troubles

The seekers reached the outskirts of Slaughter City and sped over the buildings toward the central sector. They had been told to fly to the Council Hall and destroy it, along with anyone who stood in their way.

As they passed into the inner sectors, they started to fly over war-damaged streets and buildings. This part of the city-state seemed abandoned.

Then, suddenly, thousands of Autobots and civilians seemed to materialize below the low-flying seekers. The atmosphere filled with shafts of plasma fire, and seekers broke formation, scattered, and fell.

They rained down in tens and twenties to crash on the broken streets below.

* * *

Sideswipe felt it as soon as Sunstreaker lost his hold and tumbled down toward the ground.

He turned his seeker around and flew toward the place where his twin was falling, desperate, afraid he'd be too late.

He also felt it when his brother hit the ground.

He leaned forward, forcing his ride down toward the streets, then jumped off at the last astrosecond. The seeker spun out of control and crashed into a building, but Sideswipe rolled, and was on his pedes in an astrosecond. He charged toward the motionless yellow form on the street ahead of him.

He wasn't _too_ worried, though. Sunstreaker was still conscious.

"Sunny!" Sideswipe skidded to a stop right over him.

Sunstreaker groaned, but accepted Sideswipe's proffered hand and let his brother pull him to his pedes. "Don't call me that."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I think," Sunstreaker grimaced. "I landed pretty hard… might have some internal injuries or something… nothing life-threatening."

Sideswipe believed him. If Sunstreaker was really badly hurt, he'd try harder to hide it. "Well," he sighed. "I guess we should probably try to find some Autobot unit to join… or get you to medical."

Sunstreaker snorted. "I'm fine. No thanks to you and your stunt with the seekers."

Sideswipe shrugged. "You have to admit that was fun, though."

Sunstreaker hesitated, then shrugged. "Yeah." He glanced up at the sky, where the former residents of Vos were still swarming. "You want to try it again?"

"Pit, yeah," Sideswipe said. "Right now?"

Sunstreaker's answer was to head for the nearest tall building. Sideswipe followed him. He got a comm. directing him to join the nearest group of Autobots, but he ignored it. Prowl had sent him—and probably Sunstreaker too—a couple of annoyed messages about disobeying orders, but he'd stopped after a few breems, probably because the twins were actually doing something useful.

The elevator—which was working, fortunately—took them slowly up to the top floor of the building. Sunstreaker spent most of the ride up stretching and wincing. Sideswipe would have to make sure he went and saw a medic after this was all over. He figured he should probably be worried about Sunny jumping on another seeker, but he knew his brother had good enough judgment not to do something like this if he was too badly injured.

It was kind of crazy and life-threatening anyway. Might as well throw injuries into the mix to make it harder. He smirked.

"What?" Sunstreaker said.

"Since you're hurt, I'll let your points count for one and a half, to make it even."

"Or I could punch you in the faceplate," Sunstreaker said. "That's another option."

Sideswipe grinned.

The elevator came to a stop and they jogged out. Unfortunately, most of the doors in the hall were locked, and the few that weren't didn't lead to rooms with windows. Eventually, though, they found a balcony and stepped out onto it.

Seekers flew past them—above, below, all around—close enough Sideswipe could feel the wind as each one shot by. One saw the twins and fired at them as he flew past, but missed and didn't seem to care enough to come around for a second pass. Sideswipe looked over the edge, waiting for a good opportunity. You had to wait for one who wasn't going _too_ fast—one who was going in a straight line so you could judge went to jump.

He took a deep vent, counted, waited…

Then he vaulted himself over the railing and dropped down. For an instant, he felt a surge of atmosphere around him and time seemed to slow.

And then he landed on the seeker and grabbed on.

The danger was so worth the adrenaline rush.

He positioned himself to match the shocked, disoriented seeker's center of balance, and then pulled to the side. The seeker screamed as they narrowly missed a building, then tried to gain some altitude. Sideswipe used that, steering them into a cloud of other seekers, forcing them out of formation. The seekers had a fascinating way of flying in complex, organized patterns. It was like they all knew exactly where every other seeker was. Which was great when you didn't want to hit each other. But not great if you wanted to stay focused on what you were trying to shoot at when someone else was flying where they weren't supposed to be.

Once the seeker stopped fighting him so hard, Sideswipe pulled out his gun and started shooting. The seeker didn't seem to like that at all, and kept trying to swerve to throw off his aim. The other one had been easier to control. Stupid seeker.

Maybe Sideswipe could leap from this one to a different one. That might be tricky. And he had the feeling the one he was riding right now would chase him down and shoot at him. It didn't seem very happy with him.

He still managed to cause a lot of trouble. A few seekers shot at him, but most of them probably didn't want to risk hitting one of their own.

Sideswipe let the seeker take him high above the city, out of firing range of the others. He looked down. Smoke and dust obscured the distant streets below in a thin haze. There were places the city was burning. He could see soldiers fighting in desperate formations, but from this distance, he couldn't tell which groups were Autobots and which were Decepticons.

The fighting went on as far as he could see, from the seekers swarming low over the canal, to the teams of ground soldiers in the streets to the…

What.

The pit.

Was that?

"Get off of me!" The seeker spun them into a nose dive, then flipped them over, obviously trying to capitalize on Sideswipe's momentary distraction and dump him off. Sideswipe held on more tightly, digging his fingers into the seeker's already dented wings until it screamed. Then he heaved to the side, pulling the seeker around and angling so they were flying down toward the enormous moving form that had caught his attention.

It looked like a mech, but _huge._ That thing had to be three times as tall as the tallest transport he'd ever seen. The other mecha nearby looked like little mech-shaped symbiots in comparison.

Little offline mech-shaped symbiots.

That thing was definitely bad news, and he was pretty certain it wasn't an Autobot because the nearby seekers were shooting at the handful of mecha still trying to fight it.

" _Sunny?"_ he said over an internal comm.

" _Don't fragging call me that."_

" _If they're really big, do they count as more than one point?"_

" _No."_

" _Oh well."_

Sunstreaker wasn't going to be happy about this. Sideswipe wasn't really happy about this either, but that thing was killing his fellow soldiers. Someone had to stop it.

* * *

"Oh, Primus," Springer said, drawing his long energon blade from subspace.

They'd just rounded the corner to face the big mech-shaped giant. Despite Prowl's description, Impactor had not expected it to be this large. There was no way a spark could support something that massive. "I don't know if you can get close enough with that blade," he said, holding up a grenade.

In all honesty, he wasn't sure if they could do anything about this. Not with the seekers raining fire down on them and keeping them from giving this problem their full attention. And according to Prowl, this thing had really good armor.

The other Wreckers were elsewhere. If Impactor had everyone here, they'd make short work of this, but it was just him and Springer.

Well, they could at least keep it busy for a while.

"You do your thing, I'll do mine," Springer said, then charged forward. He caught the giant's attention and it swung wildly at him, but he dodged out of the way.

Impactor threw his grenade, and detonated it just before it hit the giant's arm. The giant staggered, but didn't fall.

And now it was angry. It lifted what looked like a crumpled piece of a building from the ground and lobbed it at Springer, who had to dive out of the way.

Then it rounded on Impactor. Impactor stared into its crazed, red optics.

It was big and dumb. Maybe they'd be able to…

Something hit him in the shoulder, knocking him forward, to his knees. He scrambled back up, but didn't have time to look behind himself to see who was shooting at him. The giant raised the big missile launcher it was carrying and fired. Impactor leaped out of the way just in time to avoid the center of the blast.

Frag, the bombs in that thing were at least as powerful as the ones he was packing.

Not good.

He got to his pedes and glanced at Springer, who nodded once.

They'd put up as much of a fight as they could, but they might not win this one.

Then out of the corner of his optic, Impactor saw something large coming toward them from the sky. It was an unusual shape, so he glanced up and froze.

What the pit?

He barely had time to stare before the seeker and the mech clinging to it crashed into the giant at full speed in an explosion of fire and shrapnel. The giant fell, breaking apart as it did so.

Impactor put an arm up to block his faceplate as the wave of heat hit him, then lowered it as the ringing cleared from the atmosphere, leaving relative quiet.

"Frag," Springer said. "Did you see that?"

Impactor stepped forward, then stopped as another seeker flew down. This one also had a mech riding it, but he jumped free and the seeker veered and flew back up and away. Impactor recognized the yellow mech, who was now running toward the remains of the first crash.

The seeker the mech had been riding turned and came back, firing rapidly at the yellow mech, but Springer shot it down with a few well-aimed plasma blasts to its engines, and it crashed into a building.

Prowl sent Impactor instructions to go join another part of the battle. _"Give us a breem,"_ he commed back, and approached the smoking wreckage of the giant. The yellow mech was cursing and growling as he dug his brother's frame out from the others.

"Is he online?" Springer asked, coming over as well.

It didn't look good. If he _was_ online, he wouldn't be for long. Impactor was surprised he wasn't in a thousand pieces all over the place.

"Medical's down that way," Springer pointed. "You okay?"

The yellow mech picked up his brother, struggling to his pedes. "Fine," he growled.

"I can carry…"

"No." The yellow mech trudged off in the direction Springer had indicated.

" _Impactor, I need you to go."_

"Come on," Impactor said to Springer, then transformed. The yellow mech would make it to medical. It was just around the corner.

"That was pretty epic," Springer said. "I hope that red mech survives. He was the one who came and asked to join us, right?"

Impactor nodded. Riding seekers… that was a pretty crazy idea. And dangerous. But the mech had probably saved their lives.

"So…" Springer said.

"I still don't like him," Impactor grumbled. "But I won't try to stop you from recruiting him."

* * *

Jazz dodged out of the way of a falling seeker and kept looking. He had done some quick research in that breem and a half he had of waiting, before the ambush, and had learned what the different markings on the seekers' wings meant and how to tell if one of them was higher up in the chain of command.

He didn't absolutely, absolutely need someone higher up, but it would make his job easier and faster.

A plasma blast barely missed him and he ducked into the shelter of a nearby building. That was one good thing about fighting from the ground. There was a lot more cover than there was up in the sky. Prowl was probably making full use of that.

Jazz watched as the seekers regrouped.

And more kept coming, filling the sky, firing on the mecha below, dropping bombs that filled the atmosphere with thick smoke and the smell of burnt energon.

There were too many of them. They'd overwhelm the weaker Autobot force before long. That was why Jazz had to do his job quickly. Now that the initial ambush was over, the three Autobot seekers in Slaughter City would be up there, doing their part. They needed a little time.

But if Jazz didn't finish his part fast enough, it would be too late. The timing here had to be right. Once he was ready, he'd wait for Prowl's cue, but he needed to be ready in time or they could lose.

He could feel the tide turning here already. They wouldn't be able to hold their ground for much longer. So many would offline—so many were already dead.

He couldn't stop and think about the battle so far. He couldn't let himself lose focus on what he was doing. If he made it out of this alive, then he could worry about numbers and broken promises, but right now he had things to do. Jazz left the shelter of the building to continue searching.

Silverbolt joined one formation after another, trying to get as close to as many different seekers as possible. He could tell from the way they shifted away from him that they were sometimes annoyed or confused, but he kept moving, hoping that no one noticed he wasn't supposed to be in their unit. Or at least that they wouldn't have time to do anything about it before he'd moved on.

He did not like flying this high. It was getting hard to focus on the seekers around him and not the fact that there was nothing between him and the distant ground but empty atmosphere, nothing keeping him up but a pair of wings and an engine.

"Hey you!" A seeker said, flying out of formation and toward him. "What are you doing, drifting all over the place? What unit are you in?"

Silverbolt didn't have an answer. He turned and flew away, but not before he heard shouting behind him. "Look at his wings! That symbol!"

They hadn't known they were going to be doing this. They hadn't had time to do anything about the insignias. Silverbolt had hoped that the fact that seekers hadn't taken much interest in the war prior to Vos's fall would save him from being recognized for what he was.

It had worked until this point.

He heard engines behind him and then felt a shot go right past one of his wings, grazing it. He banked hard, and couldn't help but look down at the ground below. If they hit him, his engines could burn out and he could fall. Dizziness swept over him.

They were going to outpace him. He didn't want to fly faster. He couldn't. He swerved again and landed on the nearest roof, transforming and running for the stairwell.

He wasn't fast enough. A seeker transformed above him and landed on him, pinning him to the ground. He heard others land around him.

"An Autobot!" someone shrieked.

"Traitor!"

"Kill him!"

Silverbolt was roughly rolled over and seekers crowded around him, pulling on him, stepping on his wings. Someone shot at him and his armor absorbed it, but it still hurt.

He kept his optics shuttered, wondering if he was about to offline.

"Wait!" someone said. "Wait, there are regulations. We have a punishment for treason!"

No, Primus, no… Silverbolt struggled, but he was shoved down and someone kicked him in the helm.

"Stop crowding!"

"Let me at him!"

"Rip his wings off!"

"Everyone quiet!"

Silverbolt looked up as several of the seekers backed off. The one holding him down stepped back for a moment, then planted a pede on his wing, close to the joint.

Silverbolt gritted his denta as the other mech leaned forward, putting all his weight on the wing joint. "Anything to say for yourself, traitor?"

It didn't hurt to try. "The Autobots didn't sink Vos," Silverbolt said. "It wasn't them, it was Megatron."

"Ha! How gullible do you think we are? Or maybe you're the gullible one. Either way, those words are treason. Renounce the Autobots or we'll cripple you and send you to the rust beneath with those groundpounders, where you belong."

Silverbolt could pretend, but he didn't know if they'd believe him, and if he was going to die, he wanted to die with honor. He said nothing.

"Admit it! Admit you're a traitor! Admit the Autobots destroyed Vos!"

He shook his helm, not trusting his voice, then shuttered his optics again as he felt clawed hands grab the edge of his weighed down wing and pull upward. He screamed as the wing was twisted out of shape—his voice drowned out the groan the metal itself made as it bent. They mutilated his other wing as well, then started dragging him over to the edge of the building.

"Please, no," he gasped. "No…" But they didn't hear or didn't care. Probably both.

The pain was almost as overwhelming as the terror. He wouldn't be able to transform with his wings bent like this. He was going to fall to his death—his worst nightmare made reality.

He was going to find out what it felt like when he hit the ground at terminal velocity.

* * *

No.

The femme's spark flashed and went out, and she lay still. Offline. Gone.

Ratchet stared at her with a sinking, churning feeling in his tanks.

No.

This couldn't happen. He'd never lost a patient before. He was the gifted one—the brilliant, talented young medic, the miracle worker. He was supposed to be infallible.

But he hadn't saved this femme.

She was dead.

He should have done better, trained harder, worked faster.

The mech assisting him—a nurse from one of the hospitals—started to move the femme from her spot. Ratchet clenched his fists, instinctively wanting to stop him. There had to be something he could do still. He couldn't give up just because…

Well, the patient was _dead._

He had already failed.

He let his assistant carry the dead femme away, then stepped back, looking around. Chaos ruled the room. Chaos, and the desperation of trying to save fading sparks.

He couldn't do this.

He was done.

He'd request to take over from the femme directing traffic. He couldn't touch another dying soul. He couldn't watch while that happened again.

Nearby yelling snapped him out of his shock. Not frightened yelling, just arguing, somewhere outside the door of the building. Was someone blocking the way? What was going on? He'd put a stop to it, whatever it was. He marched over to where the mecha at the door were trying to take a broken mess of metal from a yellow mech.

"You're not injured, you have to stay out there."

"Get out of my way!" The yellow mech looked up and met Ratchet's optics. Ratchet recognized him from before the war.

He'd pieced this mech together once, in Perceptor's house, in the middle of the off-cycle. He'd saved this mech's life, along with his twin… Sunstreaker and Sideswipe

The guard outside the door reached for the badly injured mech Sunstreaker was carrying. "Let us take—"

"Let him in!" Ratchet cut in. "Come on, hurry!"

The guards didn't argue. The yellow mech brought what Ratchet assumed was his brother and let Ratchet take him and set him down on the ground.

"Oh my…" his assistant said.

Sunstreaker collapsed, and Ratchet let the assistant catch him and knelt over this red idiot. He was practically in pieces, covered in burns and missing chunks of armor. You could see straight through to his spark chamber, which was pulsing weakly.

Ratchet hesitated. He still felt completely burned out. He still felt like he couldn't touch another injured mech this orn. But he had to. He hadn't saved this idiot's life just to let him offline now.

"This mech might have internal injuries," the mech working with Ratchet said. "He just passed out."

"Leave him be, he's fine," Ratchet replied. "He collapsed because they're twins."

"Really? How can you tell?"

"Just help me with this one." Ratchet worked frantically, trying to stabilize the red mech, trying to tie off energon lines and safely shut down damaged systems as Sideswipe slipped deeper into stasis.

No matter how tired he was or how much he hated this work, he couldn't give up. He couldn't lose this one.

* * *

" _We are running out of time."_

" _I know, I know!"_ Jazz said, fingers and processor running at top speed. He had his two mecha, had his datapad linked manually up to both of their comms, and Glyph had sent him the file he needed. But he was still trying to figure out how to send a message directly to the Decepticon command hub.

" _How much longer do you need?"_

" _I don't know,"_ Jazz said. _"Hang on."_

" _I need an estimate, Jazz. This won't work if the Decepticons have already won. We can't hold out any more than a few more breems before we need to change tactics."_

" _Well, I don't know if this'll take two more astroseconds or ten breems,"_ Jazz said. _"I'm working as fast as I can, all right?"_ And Prowl's pestering wasn't helping. Jazz already _knew_ how important this was.

" _I'm going to have to call a retreat if you don't…"_

" _Would ya fragging trust me already?"_ Jazz snapped at him. _"Just a few more breems. I need a few more breems."_

* * *

Plasma fire sounded nearby and Silverbolt felt some of the seekers let go, then all of them, shouting about traitors. Silverbolt unshuttered his optics and tried to sit up as the seekers turned to attack this new threat.

Air Raid.

Silverbolt struggled to a sitting position and got his weapons out. He fired at some of the seekers from behind as Air Raid fought them. His brother was a good fighter, but he couldn't take them all by himself.

Or maybe he could.

They flew off after three of them went down, and then Air Raid jogged over.

"'Bolt," he said. "Ah, pit, your wings."

"I'm okay," Silverbolt said, accepting his brother's proffered hand. "I can't fly, though. I've got to get off of this roof before they come back with their friends. You should go back out there."

Air Raid looked out at the seeker-filled skies. "Nah," he said. "You're hurt—I'm not just leaving you here."

They headed for the stairwell.

* * *

Ironhide peeked through the window, watching the seekers. They were flying low to the ground now, swarming just outside, keeping Ironhide and his mecha holed up in this low, dark building while they dropped bombs and tried to shoot through the windows. Ironhide raised his gun and fired, taking a seeker down from the sky, then ducked away as several plasma shots came through the window.

He heard another explosion and felt the walls and the ground shake.

" _Prowl,"_ he said over the comm. _"You do have a plan, right?"_

Prowl didn't answer.

" _Prowl!"_

Yet another explosion rocked the building. They weren't going to last in here much longer.

Then, the noise died down a little. He could still hear the drone of the seekers' engines, but they weren't firing as much.

Ironhide risked another glance out the window and frowned. Where they'd been in tight, organized formations, now they were flying in more random patterns—some groups broke off and flew away, others called after them and there seemed to be a lot of arguing and confusion.

Finally, Prowl spoke over the comm. _"Ironhide, get your mecha out of the building. Leave some behind to deal with the seekers there and head three blocks south."_

Ironhide relayed orders and Autobots poured out of the building, firing up at the confused mass of seekers in the sky.

* * *

"What is going on?" Megatron demanded.

"A fourth of my seekers have stopped responding," the mech running the Slaughter City battle said.

"Nearly a third of mine," the mech in charge of the Tagan Heights battle put in. "I'm not sure what's wrong, and I can't establish a connection with them, but it seems like they're following orders from somewhere else."

Megatron growled. "Well, figure out what's going on and FIX IT!"

"Sir, our ground troops are completely surrounded in three locations," one of the mecha from the Tagan Heights team said. "Should we bridge them out?"

"We're getting a lot of comms from seekers who don't know what they're supposed to be doing," someone from the Slaughter City team said.

Megatron could hear them talking over the internal comms as well.

" _What the pit is going on?"_

" _Wait, maybe your seekers are getting my orders and mine are getting yours."_

" _What? How the pit would that happen?"_

"Then switch battles!" Megatron said.

"There's no way we can do that," one of them said. "Besides, not _everyone's_ getting the comms swapped, so if we switched…"

"DO SOMETHING!" Megatron said. Curse that Praxian. This must be another one of his tricks. Megatron shouldn't have left him alive on Vos—he should have made _certain_ the mech offlined.

It didn't matter that he outnumbered the Autobots. It didn't matter that he had the seekers at his disposal. If his tacticians couldn't properly communicate with his forces, he would lose both battles.

He could let it play out. He could tell them to bring the confused seekers home and focus on the communications that weren't getting sent to the wrong place. But he probably couldn't win that fight, and that would weaken his forces significantly.

"Call a retreat!" Megatron said. "Now! Before they capture all of our ground troops. Have them bring as many of the injured as you can." He was fairly sure Optimus would let them retreat. The idiot always did.

"It might just be a glitch in the comm. hub," one of the tacticians said. "We could—"

"NOW!" Megatron shouted, and they stopped arguing with him.

He commed Soundwave. _"Get me in contact with Optimus. I want to talk to him."_

* * *

The Decepticons were retreating. Orion listened over the comm. channels as Prowl started directing clean-up. That had been a close call. They'd probably lost almost as many mecha as they had in the Tesarus battle, except they'd won this time. There was still a lot of work to do, of course. The medics they were borrowing from the hospital probably wouldn't be enough, and they'd have to call for more volunteers.

At least this time they could treat their injured soldiers instead of leaving them behind for the Decepticons to capture.

" _Orion, Megatron wants to talk to you,"_ Elita said. _"Should we ignore him?"_

" _No, I'll talk to him."_

" _Come here."_

Orion left his station and went over to Elita's terminal. She moved away and hit a button and suddenly Megatron's faceplate was displayed on the screen.

"Orion Pax," he growled.

"Good orn," Orion said, a little surprised. Megatron hadn't called him that since the ill-fated meeting with the Council. The audible chatter in the room suddenly dropped off as mecha listened to Megatron talking.

"You think you can beat me with your cheap tricks. But you're wrong. You'll never win. Surrender to me, or I'll snuff out the spark of every single Autobot in existence, saving you for last, you worthless piece of scrap metal."

Orion could feel the anger rising in the room. He sent a quick comm. to everyone, warning them to let him handle this.

"I am certain this will come as no surprise to you," he said. "I will not surrender. Not now, not ever. Nor can I allow your reign to spread or your crimes to go unpunished. Did you contact me to make empty threats or did you have something important to discuss?"

"If you will not surrender, then you will watch your precious mecha offline one by one. You are too weak to save them, and you always will be. You're unfit to be a Prime—unworthy." Megatron glared at him, then cut the comm.

"Cheap tricks, huh?" Moonracer growled. "What about what he did in Vos?"

Orion looked down.

Elita put a hand on his arm and sent him a private comm. _"Please don't tell me you're letting that idiot get to you."_

Orion shook his helm slightly. He was just sad that Megatron was still so angry. He always hoped to talk that mech out of his insanity, but Megatron seemed less and less reasonable every time Orion got a chance to communicate with him.

And the numbers had started coming in. Many mecha had offlined this orn because of this war. So many had died already—all because of one mistake, one misunderstanding.

They had won. But he couldn't bring himself to celebrate.

* * *

"Silverbolt! Air Raid!" Skydive waved them over and they hurried to join him and Slingshot.

"I told you we'd find them with the ground-pounders," Slingshot said. "Fragging _pit_ what happened to your wings?"

"Where's Fireflight?" Silverbolt asked, worried.

"Uh…" Slingshot said.

Skydive shrugged.

"Please don't tell me you left him in Slaughter City."

"We thought he'd come back here with everyone else," Skydive said. "Sorry, 'Bolt, I guess we should have made sure."

"The idiot probably retreated with the Decepticon seekers on accident," Slingshot said.

Silverbolt sighed. "Primus," he said quietly, anxiety churning in his tanks. "Let's hope that _didn't_ happen."

"That looks really painful," Skydive said. "You should go find a medic."

It _was_ painful. But... "There are mecha with life-threatening injuries," Silverbolt said. "I need to wait my turn."

Slingshot reached over and flicked one of Silverbolt's wings. Silverbolt gasped, flinching away.

"Hey!" Air Raid shoved between Silverbolt and Slingshot. "What was that for?"

"He should go see a medic right now. We risked our sparks for this stupid cause this orn and he deserves treatment just as much as—if not more than—any other Autobot."

"What, so you're going to make it worse?" Air Raid said. "Just…"

"Please don't fight with each other right now," Silverbolt said as the pain faded back to tolerable levels. Air Raid and Slingshot had—understandably—been extra tense and moody since Vos. Silverbolt hadn't asked, but he _knew_ Air Raid had been conflicted about going to fight this orn. He probably hadn't wanted to risk seeing Dawn there and maybe watching her die. And Slingshot was still grieving. They both glared at him.

"We need to find out where Fireflight is," Silverbolt said. "Is he not answering his comm?"

"He's probably all right," Skydive said.

Silverbolt commed him.

And waited.

And waited.

Fireflight answered. _"Hi!"_

"Where are you? Are you all right?"

" _I'm kind of lost, but I'm heading north so I think I'll make it back to Iacon."_

"What?"

" _Okay, so it's not my fault. No one told me the battle was over, and I was still trying to get close to as many seekers as possible…"_

Oh, Primus.

"… _so I was just kind of flying with them and then I realized we weren't getting shot at anymore, from below, and also that we weren't in Slaughter City anymore. So I tried to find a good opportunity and turned to go back the other way."_

So he _had_ retreated with the other seekers. Silverbolt glanced at Slingshot. "So why didn't you stay in Slaughter City once you got back there?"

" _Huh? Oh, I didn't. I forgot I was going there and started heading north and then I figured you'd all be in Iacon anyway so I'd better just come there."_

Silverbolt sighed. At least he was all right. "What are your coordinates? If you can get back to Slaughter City, you can probably find a bridge that will bring you back here. That'll be faster."

"Where is he?" Slingshot asked.

" _I don't know."_ Fireflight said. _"I guess I can go back. Okay, I'll do that. It'll be faster than flying back to Iacon."_

"Let me know when you get there, all right?"

" _Okay. Fireflight out!"_

Silverbolt cut the comm.

"Where is he?" Skydive asked.

"He was trying to fly back to Iacon," Silverbolt said.

"What?" Slingshot demanded.

"I told him to go back to Slaughter City and bridge from there," Silverbolt said, then sighed.

"Hmm…" Skydive frowned.

"What?"

"I just… It's probably all right, I'm just a bit worried about what might happen when he flies over Slaughter City. After all, they _were_ just attacked by seekers. They wouldn't necessarily shoot one random mech down, but…"

"That's a good point," Silverbolt said, shuttering his optics and putting a hand to his helm. "It'll probably be at least as bad for him to fly over Iacon, though." How were they going to get him back? He didn't want to ask for a groundbridge just to bring one wandering soldier home, but he didn't want to risk Fireflight getting shot at either.

"You all right, 'Bolt?" Air Raid said. "Maybe you should sit down."

Silverbolt let them lead him away from the crowd of other Autobot soldiers where he sat down on a low wall. He gripped the edge of the wall hard, waiting for the pain to back off a little, but knowing it probably wouldn't.

"I still think you should just go find a medic," Slingshot said.

"Maybe we could get a groundbridge for Fireflight," Skydive said. "If they'd let us. The Prime _did_ say you could talk to him any time you want.

"He's probably busy," Silverbolt said. "But yes, we'll have to try that." He commed Fireflight again.

" _Yes?"_ Fireflight said.

"I've changed my mind," Silverbolt said. "I don't want you to fly to Slaughter City." '

" _You want me to go to Iacon instead?"_

"I want you to stay where you are and we'll get you a bridge."

" _Really?"_ Fireflight sounded offended. _"I'm not_ that _unreliable, 'Bolt. I can do this."_

"It's not that," Silverbolt said. "We're just worried mecha will panic and shoot you if you fly over the city."

" _What?"_ Fireflight said.

"Please just stay where you are. Send me your coordinates."

" _I'm in the middle of nowhere,"_ Fireflight said, but then sent the coordinates.

"Just find a good place to land and wait."

" _Okay, whatever. Fireflight out. For real this time."_ He cut the comm.

Silverbolt sighed again, but then Fireflight commed him. He answered. "Yes? What is it?"

" _I just remembered, I wanted to ask you if everyone is okay."_

"Yes," Silverbolt said. "We're all fine."

" _Good,"_ Fireflight said. _"That's all. Let me know when you want me to do something else, okay?"_

"Okay," Silverbolt said. "Silverbolt out."

He shook his helm and cut the comm.

"You're not all right," Skydive said quietly.

"I'm not badly injured," Silverbolt said. "And I'll be fine… It's actually very fortunate I was the only one who got hurt. I think a lot of mecha died in that battle."

"A lot of seekers died," Air Raid said.

They fell silent for a moment.

"Part of me…" Air Raid said quietly, then shook his helm. "Never mind."

"I'm sure she's fine," Skydive said.

"Well, I can't tell anymore," Air Raid said, "Since the bond is gone… gah, what are we _doing?_ We're the only ones."

"The only Autobot seekers?" Skydive said. "It is kind of crazy, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Slingshot said darkly. "And if we had been shot down, it would probably have been the Autobots doing the shooting."

Silence again.

"Well," Silverbolt said. "We made a decision and we're going to stick with it, because it was the right decision."

The others nodded, though Silverbolt was pretty sure they all understood that there was no backing out now anyway, even if they wanted to.

* * *

"I told you it was not advisable to send them into battle immediately," Shockwave said.

Megatron scowled. "You told me you upgraded their armor." As far as he was concerned, Shockwave's experiment had been a success, even though the mecha had offlined. But he was still in a bad mood from losing the battle.

"Their sparks were still not as stable as they could have been," Shockwave explained. "When one of them offlined, it offlined the other four."

"Can you solve that problem?" Megatron asked.

"I do not know," Shockwave replied.

"Well, can you at least make more of them?"

"Yes," Shockwave said, still calm and emotionless. "That would be possible. I would need more volunteers."

The mad scientist already had a reputation among the Decepticons, and finding the first set of volunteers had been hard enough. "Would it work if they were unwilling volunteers?"

Shockwave took a while to answer. "The procedure would be possible," he said. "But their loyalty might be compromised."

Very true. "Fine. I'll see what I can do."

Shockwave nodded.

"I will leave you to your work," Megatron said, and walked away. Soundwave commed him while he was on his way back to the room he'd claimed as a command center. He answered. _"What is it?"_

" _The Council is willing to speak to you now."_

" _Ah, good. I will be there shortly."_

He'd had a thought at the end of that battle. A thought about how powerful the Autobots were and about not letting them become any more powerful. And a different thought, about who the real enemy was here. Orion, for all his posturing, was fairly useless without his supporters.

But that wouldn't be true forever.

Megatron knew what would happen if he waited too long. He could _not_ allow Orion to receive the Matrix of Leadership and become a Prime.

He got to the command center and made his way to his seat. Soundwave, who was off to the side of the room, waited until Megatron was ready and then initiated the call. A screen lit up across the room and Megatron could see the Iacon Council sitting on their own thrones.

The mech in the very center seat—Halogen—looked directly into the camera.

These were the mecha who ran the show—his true enemies. These were the mecha who'd ignored Kaon's plight, who'd allowed the world to fall into darkness and corruption. And still they sat there, scheming, no doubt trying to keep hold on their power. Maybe Megatron could use that.

He hadn't used to be a very good liar. But he was practicing.

"You called us, Megatron," Halogen said. "Be brief. We have very little time for you."

"I would like to offer you a deal," Megatron said.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. It seems that even with superior forces I am unable to match the Autobots in strategy."

"So it seems," Halogen said calmly.

"I am looking for some more experienced leadership for my army, and was wondering if you would all be interested in joining the Decepticon cause."

Halogen looked troubled, though Megatron noticed several of the other senators seemed interested.

The head of the Council regained his composure quickly. "I'm sure you are," he said. "However, I'm hesitant to believe you would want _our_ help, seeing as you've slaughtered the Councils of the cities you've taken so far."

"That's where the deal comes in," Megatron said. "I will allow you positions of power in my army if you will bring me the key to Vector Sigma."

Halogen frowned. "And what exactly would you want with the key?"

"Vector Sigma holds the knowledge of the Matrix's location, does it not? If I have the key, I can prevent the Prime from receiving the Matrix."

"So you can defeat him?" Halogen seemed unimpressed.

"Yes."

"Well, he doesn't have the Matrix now, and he's already defeating _you_ so I don't see how that will help your cause. Perhaps earlier on, we would have been willing to throw our lot in with you, but at this point we have nothing to gain by it."

"Optimus will have you killed when your usefulness to him has run out."

"And you wouldn't?" Halogen said flatly.

"I will kill you," Megatron said. "If you will not give me the key, I will come and kill you and take it from you."

"We will not be bullied," Halogen said. "Your threats are no more than bluster, and unless you have something useful to say then I'm afraid we have more important issues to see to."

Megatron glared at them, but said nothing else until they cut the comm and the screen went dark.

"You'd think they'd all know, after what we did in Vos," he said. "I don't make empty threats."


	48. Necessity

It was not the first time in his life that Sideswipe had woken up feeling like he'd been hit by a mass transit. He waited impatiently while his systems booted up, trying to access his most recent memory files. His energon levels were pretty high, so whatever had happened, he'd gotten decent medical help. And, all things considered, there wasn't that much pain, just a sort of dull ache all over.

He could tell Sunstreaker was nearby, sulking, which was oddly comforting. They'd been in a battle, hadn't they? He'd been using the seekers to fly, which had been amazingly cool. Had he fallen off? Where the pit were those memory files?

Oh.

Oh, Primus, he'd crashed right into that big giant mech thing, hadn't he? How had he _survived?_ He un-shuttered his optics as his systems finished coming online, and discovered that he was lying on a medberth in a dim room with high ceilings. Sunstreaker sat at the end of the berth, watching him, and there was another unconscious mech lying on the berth next to him.

Sideswipe shifted and tried to sit up. It took a few astroseconds, but he got there. His whole frame was a mass of temp plating and newly replaced, unpainted armor, and sitting wasn't very comfortable, but it gave him a better angle to look around. The room appeared to be some sort of warehouse that had been turned into a medbay. He could see medics wandering from berth to berth, and a whole lot of injured or unconscious mecha.

Sunstreaker turned away from him.

"Hey," Sideswipe said. "Did we win?"

"Yeah." Sunstreaker was definitely angry about something.

"Great," Sideswipe said, looking down at himself again. "Wow, I look terrible."

"No kidding."

"How am I not dead?"

Susntreaker glared and didn't answer.

"What?" Sideswipe asked.

"You almost fragging killed us!"

"What? You want an apology?" Sideswipe said. "You'd have done the exact same thing if you'd thought of it."

Sunstreaker's glare intensified.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Sideswipe said. "I should have at least warned you. But really, how did I survive?"

"You got lucky," Sunstreaker said. "Your spark hadn't quite gone out by the time I got you to a medic."

Sideswipe looked down. So Sunstreaker had been the one to save him. It was lucky he hadn't passed out as soon as Sideswipe crashed.

If Sunstreaker had passed out, he would have fallen off of his seeker, and probably died, and that would have been the end of it. Sideswipe really had almost gotten them offlined.

"How the frag did you even get the seeker to do that?" Sunstreaker said.

"I got it going in the right direction, then knocked it out," Sideswipe replied. "We're just lucky its wings and momentum carried us the rest of the way. That would have been supremely lame otherwise. And I _did_ try to jump free at the end, but I timed it wrong."

Sunstreaker shook his helm.

A medic came over—a medic he recognized.

"Hey!" he said. "Ratchet, right?"

"You," the orange and white medic growled. "I told you _not_ to do stupid unnecessary things like that."

"Did you see that thing I took down, though?"

Ratchet huffed.

"I think it might have been necessary."

The medic whacked him on the helm with his wrench.

"Ow!"

"Shut up, I need to make sure all your repairs are taking," Ratchet said and Sideswipe bore it patiently as the medic poked and prodded and muttered to himself. When he was finished, Ratchet threatened to detach all of Sideswipe's limbs if he tried to get up, and then wandered away to check on a different patient.

Sideswipe was all right with staying put for now. It might get boring later, though. He shuttered his optics and let himself slip into sort of a half recharge. His self-repairs were working like crazy and he felt pretty weak. Sunstreaker stayed where he was, still feeling sulky. Sideswipe did feel kind of bad, but not quite enough to regret what he'd done. Taking down that thing had been important. He un-shuttered his optics again. "Hey, Sunny?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that thing I crashed into."

"Yeah."

"Do you know what the pit it was?"

"I think they're calling it a combiner," Sunstreaker said. "It was five mechs who transformed into one giant mech."

"What?" Sideswipe said.

"You need me to call that medic back so he can check your audios?"

"No, I mean where the pit did Megatron get… that's just _wrong!_ "

"Mecha are saying it's some sort of historical thing that they had before the Quintesson wars," Sunstreaker said.

"Really?"

Sunstreaker shrugged. "I haven't bothered to find out for sure."

"Combiner," Sideswipe said. "That sounds deceptively benign."

Sunstreaker shrugged again.

"Did I kill it, at least?"

"Yeah."

"Ha! And it counts as five because it was five mecha."

He could almost hear his brother rolling his optics.

Silence fell for a few breems, or at least relative quiet. You could hear the medics and some of the other injured mecha talking, and occasional pedesteps, and the piercing but still easily-ignored beeping of medical equipment. Sideswipe had nearly slipped into recharge when he heard someone approaching.

"Hey."

He un-shuttered his optics and looked toward the voice. It was that green wrecker who'd been there when he'd crashed. "Hey."

The mech seemed to study him. "That was pretty hardcore, what you did."

"Yeah?" Sideswipe said, pushing himself back into a sitting position and trying not to wince. "Thanks." He thought he knew where this was going.

"I'm glad you made it."

Sideswipe nodded.

"So, we were talking and we might want to revise what we said before… and offer you an invitation onto the team, you know, when you're recovered."

"You sure?" Sideswipe said. "After all, I'm just a mouthy troublemaker."

"You're definitely Wrecker material," the mech said.

Sideswipe glanced at Sunstreaker, but he was pretty sure his twin didn't care either way. Sunny was kind of weird like that. "You know what?" Sideswipe smirked at the big green mech. "I think we'll stick to doing our own thing. Thanks, though."

The green mech looked a little surprised, but not offended. "All right," he said. "I guess we did kind of ask for that. I'm Springer, by the way."

Sideswipe nodded.

"You change your mind, you let us know."

"Sure."

Springer walked away.

"I thought you wanted to be a Wrecker," Sunstreaker said.

"I don't need to be part of an exclusive club to be awesome."

"You also don't need to fragging get yourself killed."

"I said I was sorry."

"But you didn't mean it."

"Someone had to stop that thing, somehow, and I had a good opportunity. Besides, I'm fine."

"Is that what you thought when you flew yourself at it?" Sunstreaker said, "That you'd be all right?"

"Yes," Sideswipe said. "I told you, I tried to jump free. I just didn't quite get to the actual jumping part in time. I knew I was going to get hurt, but I didn't think I was really going to die until right at the end when there was nothing I could do about it."

Sunstreaker heaved a sigh and shook his helm.

"You don't think I'd intentionally do something that dumb," Sideswipe said. "Life's worth a little more than taking down a 'combiner.' Frag, that just sounds so lame. Combiner..."

"Well, you could have said that," Sunstreaker said. "Instead of acting like this whole thing is a great big joke."

"I did say that," Sideswipe said. "You just weren't listening." Sunstreaker was still glaring at him, but Sideswipe just lay down again and looked up at the ceiling. "I actually… I actually don't know if I'd give my spark for this cause."

Sunstreaker was silent, but at least he wasn't quite as angry anymore.

"I guess it could happen," Sideswipe said. "Participating in battles is kind of risky that way, you know. But I don't know if, in the moment, I'd choose to die fighting for that Prime mech. Probably not."

Sunstreaker was still silent.

"But I like him better than Megatron. Especially after Vos."

"What if the Prime was lying about Vos?"

"You think he was lying?"

"No," Sunstreaker said. "I think Megatron was lying."

"Well, we trust your instincts," Sideswipe said. "So we can assume Megatron sank Vos."

Sunstreaker nodded.

"In that case, I guess we picked the right side after all," Sideswipe said. "Not that it was hard. The names are kind of a dead giveaway. What kind of honest mech would call his army the Decepticons? I bet Megatron's not really that bright."

"Probably not."

"Complete idiot."

"Yep."

Sideswipe sighed. He was bored again, especially now Sunstreaker wasn't angry with him anymore. "You think Ratchet would really detach all my limbs if I tried to get up?"

"No," Sunstreaker said. "Because I'd beat him to it."

"You're no fun."

"Just go back to your nap."

"Will you tell me a bedtime story?"

"You're glitched."

Sideswipe laughed, then grimaced, then lay still. It was going to be a long orn.

* * *

"…so, all things considered," Chromia said. "This battle hit the 'Cons a lot harder than it hit us. And this time, _we're_ the ones with more prisoners than we know what to do with."

Optimus nodded. "Thank you, Chromia. Prowl?"

Prowl stood. They'd been busy enough with the battle clean-up that they hadn't been able to hold a meeting with everyone here until now, more than a full orn later. Prowl started giving a summarized tactical report. For the first time since the Tarn evacuation, the casualty number had been surprisingly low—at least the Autobot casualty number. It had been a miraculous success. Of course, it would have been much worse if they hadn't been able to interrupt and re-route the Decepticons' communications. And it had still cost an unacceptable number of lives, even if it was a smaller unacceptable number than Prowl had feared.

He didn't look at Jazz as he described the mech's part in the plan. Prowl felt horrible for what he'd asked Jazz to do, though it had made the victory possible. He'd tried to find a path that wouldn't bring the mech in contact with any fighting, but that hadn't worked well. After the battle, he had commed the two surviving mecha from the unit Jazz had been with and asked them what had happened. The mech who had been conscious through the whole thing hadn't wanted to talk about it, but from what he _had_ said, Prowl could infer that Jazz had singlehandedly killed a _lot_ of Decepticons.

Prowl desperately wanted to apologize, but he probably wouldn't be able to get up the courage, and even if he did, it wouldn't go well. He wasn't particularly good at apologizing.

He finished his report and sat down. There was a lot to talk about, and a lot to do. The meeting went long enough Prowl could tell some of them were really getting sick of it. But eventually, it did come to a close, and they all left. Prowl pushed his guilt aside—he had too many things to plan for and too many decisions to make. He ran down a mental list in his helm. At some point he needed to talk to those twins. They'd ignored orders again and had completely abandoned their unit, but on the other hand they'd taken down a lot of seekers, not to mention the combiner. So he wasn't really sure if he should punish them or thank them.

Once the meeting was over, Prowl went to his office. He was tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to recharge—there was too much to think about.

The one truly staggering number in Chromia's report had been the number of dead seekers. If they hadn't hated the Autobots before, they surely did now. More seekers had died in this battle than had died in the explosions when Vos had fallen.

In winning this fight, was Prowl also helping the war win? Frag it, why had Yoketron said that? Now Prowl was questioning himself. He couldn't afford to question himself, not when the Autobots were relying on him. He would be more careful—he would try to keep the casualties as low as possible—but he wouldn't let that compromise his efforts to win.

* * *

Wheeljack crouched in the shadows, watching the door. Shockwave was in that building, he knew. He had been careful. He'd gotten this far. Now he just needed to get in there, find Shockwave, and kill him. Neurosis was the real goal, of course, but Wheeljack hadn't heard any rumors about Neurosis at all, even though the Decepticons had captured the Institute. Maybe Wheeljack could figure it out while he was here.

It might be harder to kill his old friend, now that he'd healed a little and was more sane. He'd have to keep in mind that it was what Shockwave would want. It was too late for him to die innocent, but Wheeljack could kill him as soon as possible, before he did too many terrible things for Megatron.

He crept toward the building, watching his opportunity approach the doors. Two mecha, both with nothing more than a single red optic for a faceplate. Wheeljack wasn't sure what that meant, but he was pretty sure they weren't drones. Their frame types were different, and one of them looked like a femme.

Wheeljack took a deep vent, waiting for the right moment, then slipped out of the shadows and followed them into the building as silently as possible. He barely made it through the doors as they closed, but fortunately the guards didn't turn to look at him. He ducked down the first side passage, and followed it. It was all right if he got captured—in fact, he expected to get captured at some point. But if he could find Shockwave before that point, he could do this on his terms. At the end of the corridor, there was another hall, branching off, and a door with a window in it. He glanced in and could see only dim light and what looked like energy fields, just out of sight. Prison block. Probably not what he was looking for.

He started heading down the branching hallway, but heard voices and pedesteps approaching around some corner. He doubled back, unsure which way they were coming from, and tried the door.

It was unlocked. He slipped in and looked for somewhere to hide. There was a desk against the wall, which he ducked under.

Then he turned around and met the optics of a mech in the cell across from the desk. They stared at each other for a moment. The other mech's optics were dim and flickering, and his faceplate bore a dull, exhausted expression. There were several other mecha in the cell with him, only some of whom seemed to be conscious. A mad cackle came from somewhere else in the room and Wheeljack flinched, fighting off a sudden flashback from the Institute.

"Silence!" someone else shouted. "You eternal nuisance!"

Wheeljack shuttered his optics. He needed to get out of here. No. He needed to focus on what he was doing—finding Shockwave in order to offline him.

The door opened and Wheeljack froze. The mech who'd been watching him quickly looked away, and Wheeljack backed up, trying to vent quietly as several mecha came into the room.

"Shockwave wants all three," a femme's voice said. There was something uncomfortably familiar about that voice. "He needs to clear some cell space."

Wheeljack watched their pedes as they gathered around cells further into the room.

"Unhand me! Release me you scum! I'll kill you all!"

"Do we all get to go together?" A cheerful voice said. "This is exciting!"

Wheeljack tried not to shudder. Shadowplay, almost certainly. Stage two, and stage five. The third mech they took said nothing and didn't resist. Possible stage four or respite. Shockwave was still doing it then? Or was Neurosis here too?

Wheeljack counted eight sets of pedes leave the room and then the door closed. He crept out from under the desk.

"Are you here to help us?" The mech who'd been looking at him asked in a whisper.

"I'm here to kill Shockwave," Wheeljack said.

"Good," the mech said. "Set us free and we'll help you do that."

Wheeljack hesitated. That had not been part of the plan. And he'd have to figure out how to get the cells open anyway.

"I can't," he said. "I don't have keys. Do you know where I might find Shockwave, though?"

The mech shook his helm. "This place is new. I don't know it well enough yet. He _has_ a lab, though…"

"First right, second left," another one of the mecha in the cell said quietly. "Then through the second-to-last door on the right. Or you could just follow those guards."

Wheeljack nodded and went to the door.

"Good luck."

He didn't reply, just went out into the empty corridor. The guards were almost around the corner. He thought for one horrible moment that one of them had seen him, but they turned and walked out of sight, dragging one shouting protesting mech with them, and leading the other two. All but one of the guards had that single optic instead of a faceplate.

He crept forward and around the corner, but took long enough that the hallway was empty by the time he got to it. He walked down, looking for the second-to-last door. Once he got to Shockwave, he had a bomb he could pull out of subspace that he could set to go off almost immediately, killing probably everyone in the room, including himself.

It would be worth it.

He walked past a side corridor and two of the guards jumped out, aiming weapons at him. Wheeljack jumped and backed away, then ran. The guards chased him and one of them tackled him from behind.

Pit. He struggled to break free as his hands were pulled behind him and stasis-cuffed. He couldn't get into his subspace like this.

"I thought I saw something," that eerily familiar femme's voice said.

"Should we take him to Shockwave?" the other guard said.

Yes. He wanted them to take him to Shockwave. If they took him to Shockwave and went through his subspace, he could find a way to activate some of the explosives…

"No," the femme said. "He's busy. We'll take this one to the holding cells and Shockwave can deal with him later."

Wheeljack was forced to his pedes and marched back to the room with the cells. They shoved him roughly into an empty one and put up the energy field.

The one-opticed femme stood in front of the cell, staring in. "What was your objective here?" she demanded.

Wheeljack just looked at her.

"Whatever your purpose, it was foolish, Wheeljack."

His optics widened. "Formulaic," he said.

She didn't acknowledge her designation, just turned and left the room, followed by the other guard.

Were they Institute mecha, then?

Was that what Shockwave looked like now?

Wheeljack sank slowly to a sitting position. He figured he ought to be scared—he figured he ought to be worried about what they would do to him. But at the moment, he just felt numb. That femme might have been a person once, but now she was just a soulless shadow.

He would have to kill her too, if he could. He would have to find a way to kill all of them.


	49. The Iacon Council

Though he had his optics shuttered, Prowl could sense the floating crystal tiles with his doorwings. They hovered in slow circles, weaving around each other in a ring above his helm. He was only using six of them, and even that required the entirety of his concentration. After a few astroseconds, he dropped one, and the shock of it surged through his spark, which broke his concentration completely.

The tiles fell through the atmosphere, but Yoketron froze them all in place before they hit the ground. "Take them back and put them away," he said calmly.

Prowl vented in deeply an re-focused. He lifted the tiles from Yoketron's influence and spun them gently back toward their places on the floor of the courtyard.

"Very good," Yoketron said.

Prowl un-shuttered his optics and pressed a hand to his chest, wincing.

"What's wrong?"

"I just… when I dropped them, I felt it."

"Hmm," Yoketron frowned.

"Why would dropping the tiles…affect my spark?" Prowl wondered.

"I've said before that Processor over Matter involves the spark," Yoketron said. "In fact, it requires you to connect to the world around you _through_ your spark. That's why you can't use it for violence, because to destroy or displace something in your surroundings would damage you as well. We may be children of Primus, but we cannot truly wield his power, only borrow a small fraction of it for short periods of time."

Prowl frowned.

"I can see you aren't satisfied by that answer."

"I don't know," Prowl said. "I've dropped them before and it didn't feel like that."

"It may have to do with your injuries," Master Yoketron said. "In fact… perhaps it would be wiser not to practice processor over matter until your spark has healed completely."

Prowl sighed. He couldn't practice _anything_ while he was still injured, could he?

"That frustrates you," Yoketron noted.

"Yes."

"You will recover soon. In fact, I think we might be able to return to our usual training again next decaorn."

That was good, at least.

"For now," Yoketron continued. "As it seems we're out of other training options, would you like to meditate?"

"I actually have a question about meditation too."

Yoketron tilted his helm to the side with a slight smile. "All right."

"Why is it that when we meditate we can sense the sparks of the mecha around us? Isn't the point of meditation to focus on ourselves?"

"A very good question," Yoketron said. "Some would argue that you've gone too far if you can sense the sparks around you. However, I think it's important to remember that we are all connected. Despite our many differences, our sparks all came from the same place. The closer you are to your own spark, the closer you will be to those around you."

Prowl considered that.

"Any more questions?" Yoketron asked.

"Actually…" Prowl trailed off as he got a comm. from Elita.

"What?"

"Excuse me," he said, and answered.

" _Prowl,"_ she said, as soon as the comm. channel was open. _"Something's wrong."_

* * *

The members of the Iacon Council were the real enemy. Their actions had made this war possible. Their corruption, their cruelty, and their poor choices, had already led to so many deaths.

All of this was their fault.

And so it really didn't bother me that Megatron wanted my help to kill them. Of all his recent plans, this was the easiest one to get behind.

The Council Hall had very high security measures in place, but not high enough to keep me out. I made my way through the unused utility tunnels to the building's control center. They only had a few mecha here, sitting at computer terminals. These mecha monitored incoming and outgoing communications, made sure the doors and cameras were working properly, and kept track of other security measures.

I waited patiently until I knew who was in charge and who were underlings, waited until I knew no one was scheduled to show up and check on them for at least a joor, waited until all three of them were distracted.

Then I put in the door code and entered the room. I stunned the two underlings and stasis-cuffed the mech who had the highest rank and clearance, all before they had a chance to send any comms.

The conscious mech screamed for help, but there was no one in hearing range. I dragged him to the side of the room and propped him up against the wall, then went to his still active computer terminal and sat down.

 _Who is this mech? What does he want? Are the others offline? Is he going to kill me like he killed them? Primus, I'm going to die…_

He wasn't going to die. "How do I change the co-omm. block passwords?" I asked, annoyed.

He just stared at me, but instructions flowed through is processor.

I followed them and within a breem I had made it impossible for anyone to get a message out of the Council Hall. Then I locked all the doors. I had already checked to make sure the Council was in session. They would be trapped in the Council Chamber.

 _What is he doing? I can't see…_

We had to act quickly. Eventually, mecha outside the Council Hall would realize that no one inside was responding to their communications, and that the doors were all locked—even the front doors.

I ran up against one more problem. "Do you know the passwo-ord for the groundbridge shield ge-enerator?" I asked.

The password played through the mech's helm. "N-no?" he stuttered.

"That's okay," I said, and typed it in. He stared. _Oh, pit, he already_ knows _that password? And he seemed to know how to do everything else he wanted too. Whoever he's working for, they must have someone on the inside._

We didn't need someone on the inside.

 _He hasn't killed me, though. He must want me for something._

I shut down the groundbridge shield, changed a few more passwords, and commed Megatron to let him know we were ready. Then I dragged the three mecha out of the control room and stunned the third one since he was annoying, and I wouldn't be needing anymore help from him anyway.

They'd probably be sending guards down to see why the control room mecha weren't responding, but they'd have to break down every door on the way there because right now the doors only opened for me.

For my part, I avoided the guards and took a back way into the Council Chamber, then hid behind the service door, listening. The senators had realized their communications were blocked, and were trying to figure out what was wrong. They had also just realized the doors that led out to the entry hall were locked.

For a moment, I relished the fear in their cores as they realized the comm. block might be more than a simple technical problem.

Then a groundbridge opened in the center of the Council floor and Decepticons started pouring through, with Megatron in their lead.

* * *

Captain Bulwark of the Elite Guard was still trying to get the doors open when the screaming started. Comms had gone down a few breems ago, and every door in the whole building had mysteriously shut and locked itself.

That was one downside to having a lot of mechanized security. It was only helpful if you were in control of it.

"What the frag is going on in there?" another member of the guard asked.

Bulwark stepped back from the doors, frowning.

There were always two or three members of the Elite Guard in the Council Chamber while the Council was in session. Those mecha were the only ones he really cared about saving. But they'd probably be offline before he could do anything about it.

"Captain?"

Several others gathered around.

He needed to make a decision.

"If they have control of the security systems, whoever shut us down probably groundbridged in there."

"We've got to get past the doors, then!"

"No," Bulwark said. "Even if we broke down those doors, what would that accomplish? We'd just offline trying to defend the Councilors from whoever's in there, attacking them. We should focus on getting the front doors open so we can evacuate all the _innocent_ mecha to safety…" Comms were completely blocked, so he handed out orders verbally, sending mecha to gather everyone to the reception area, to break the front doors open, and to find out what was happening with security.

Then, once everyone had been dismissed, he turned to face the Council Chamber doors.

This was going to cause serious problems in the city-state. And he knew that if he focused all his efforts on getting into that room, he might be able to salvage things—he might be able to save them.

But honestly, it wasn't worth it, so he simply stood and listened as his government died.

* * *

Orion walked among the hospital berths. He'd had a joor of free time before he was supposed to go meet with Yoketron, and he had decided to come visit with those who'd been injured in the latest battle. If he couldn't yet fight alongside them, then at least he could remind himself what he was asking them to risk. He learned designations, offered words of encouragement, and thanked all of them for their sacrifices. They had put their lives on hold and their sparks on the line for this cause, even more than he had.

He had just finished talking to an older mech who'd been a factory worker before the war when, suddenly, he felt something twist inside of him. He froze—something was wrong, he could feel it. It was like a wire out of place or a shift in gravity, tilting everything slightly toward…

He looked in the direction of the feeling and a sudden image of Megatron in the Council Chamber, holding the key to Vector Sigma in one energon-stained hand flashed through his processor. It was so vivid that Orion could not dismiss it.

The key was in danger. He had to protect it.

He wasn't sure if this was some sort of premonition or if it was happening right now, but everything else was banished from his helm, replaced with the need to _make sure_ that key didn't fall into Megatron's hands.

He slipped from the room and left the hospital, then transformed and drove as fast as he could toward the Council Hall.

* * *

I pulled my range in once the killing started. Whenever I listened to anyone offline I felt terrible for orns.

Besides, I needed to focus. Megatron was here to kill Halogen, but I had a different target.

Fortuitously, he came to me. He rushed into my range after an astrosecond, headed for the concealed door I was standing behind. He was trying to sneak off in the confusion—not a surprise at all.

Senator Ratbat threw open the door, then froze when he saw me standing behind it, looming over him.

It took him an astrosecond to get over his shock, and then he spun and tried to flee in the other direction, but I lunged after him and tackled him.

He went limp as I put a gun to the back of his helm. "Don't kill me!" he squealed. "Don't kill me, please don't kill me!" _He's going to kill me, oh Primus, I don't deserve to die! I have to get out of here!_

Rage and disgust welled up inside of me. How could he believe that? This was the mech—he was the _reason._ All of this death and killing—this entire war—was his fault. He deserved to die more than anyone else in this room.

I got up and dragged him out onto the Council floor, then shoved him down again, kneeling on his back.

"Please!" Ratbat begged. "I'll give you anything—anything you want."

Off to the side, Megatron had backed Halogen up against a wall.

I twisted Ratbat's helm to the side painfully so he could watch my leader offline his.

"Look," I commanded. "Do you know who that is?"

Ratbat whimpered.

"A-answer me," I growled. " _Do you know who that is_?"

"Th-the gladiator?" Ratbat said. "That's M-Megatron, the gladiator from Kaon, of course I—"

"Do y-y-you reme-ember?" I said. "Two and a-a half vorns ago."

"What?"

"There wa-as a student. A student who stood u-up to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Think," I shoved his helm down harder into the ground.

"Yes!" he said. He remembered.

"Do you remember what you did to him?" I said.

Ratbat thought back. _I had him executed… no, I had him wiped and sent to the mines… the mines in Kaon… the gladiator… no…_ He connected the dots as he watched Megatron pull out a blade and run Halogen through, pinning the Grand Councilmech to the wall.

Halogen screamed.

"It can't be," Ratbat whispered.

"Y-you know what I think?" I said, leaning closer so he could hear me.

He looked at me out of the corner of one optic. "P-please, I didn't know. I'm sorry… I…" He trailed off.

"I thi-ink I'm going to do to you _exactly_ what you did to him."

"No!" he screamed. "No…"

I savored his terror for another astrosecond, then knocked him out. I'd bring him with me when we left.

I kept my range small and went to stand behind Megatron, who smirked at me. _That was interesting, Soundwave. I didn't expect you to actually participate._

I shrugged. "I-it was persona-al."

Megatron nodded, and turned to look at Halogen again. The Grand Councilmech was still online, even conscious. Megatron had pinned him to the wall, but wasn't finished with him yet.

"Now," he said, "Tell me where you keep the Key to Vector Sigma and I'll kill you quickly."

Halogen just groaned, clutching at the blade that was buried to the hilt in his chassis.

He didn't answer, but he _did_ think about where the key was.

I sent Megatron a quick comm. about it, then turned away, suddenly feeling sick.

Megatron used his own clawed hand to rip open Halogen's shoulder and take the key to Vector Sigma from the secret compartment there. He subspaced it and tore his blade free. I extinguished my range so I couldn't feel it when Megatron took the councilmech's helm off with one clean stroke.

And then the doors to the Council Chamber burst open.

* * *

"What do you mean, something's wrong?" Prowl demanded.

" _I don't know,"_ Elita said. _"But Orion's been worried about something for several breems, and he's not answering his comm. and his guards say he just disappeared without them while he was visiting mecha in the hospital."_

"What?"

" _And now he's_ really _frightened about something,"_ Elita said. _"And no one knows where he is."_

Frag, not _this_ again. This was the _second_ time he'd ended up separated from his guards and in danger.

"Fine. I'll see if I can figure it out. Thank you for letting me know."

"What is it?" Yoketron asked.

"Orion's disappeared," Prowl said. "Elita thinks he's in trouble."

Yoketron frowned. "Well, we must find him then."

Prowl nodded, but couldn't reply because Ironhide was comming him now.

"Yes, Ironhide," he said. "I know Ori—"

" _We're just getting word the Council Hall's been attacked."_

"What?" Prowl demanded.

" _Someone infiltrated and trapped the councilmechs in there while the Council was in session. The Guard have finally gotten the front doors working so they could get out and contact us."_

"Who's attacking—?"

" _Who do you think? Soundwave knows how to hack the Council Hall's security—hasn't he done that sort of thing before?"_

Pit.

" _We ought to send some reinforcements—we don't know how many Decepticons are in there, and the Elite Guard decided to work on getting everyone else out instead of getting into the Council Chamber where the action was."_

"Ask them if they've seen Orion," Prowl said. "Ask them if anyone's seen Orion, he's gone missing and Elita says he's frightened about something."

" _Frag, hold on…"_

Prowl shuttered his optics, hoping desperately that these two things weren't somehow related. It would mean they knew where Orion was, but that was less comforting if it turned out Megatron was in that same place.

"Prowl?" Yoketron said.

" _Someone saw him running into the Council Hall, half a breem ago,"_ Ironhide said.

Fragging pit, this was bad. "Bridge me there," Prowl said. "Bridge the whole army there."

" _We can't,"_ Ironhide said. _"It's the center of the city-state—there'll be too much of a crowd to open a bridge without risking—"_

"Well, bridge me as close as you can!" Prowl said.

" _Got it,"_ Ironhide said, and cut the comm.

"What's going on?" Yoketron said.

"The Decepticons are in the Council Hall," Prowl said. "And so is Orion."

A groundbridge opened up off to the side of the courtyard.

Prowl glanced at Yoketron, who nodded once, and they rushed through the glowing portal together.

* * *

A mech came stumbling through the open door of the Council Chamber and skidded to a stop, staring at the carnage around him.

Optimus.

He looked around with wide, horrified optics, then locked gazes with Megatron, who'd turned to look at him as well.

Well, that was convenient. He hadn't even brought any guards with him.

Our soldiers got over their shock and charged at him from all sides, but Megatron held up a hand.

"Block the doors," he commanded. "But leave the Prime to me."

Optimus glanced behind himself as the Decepticons filed into the space between him and the still-open doorway.

Someone must have gotten the doors working again.

Oh well. In this case, it looked like that would work to our advantage.

I couldn't read Optimus's processor, but I could see the horror on his faceplate as he stepped toward Megatron, still looking around at the slaughtered Council.

"You…" he said. "You killed them…"

"Were you coming here to protect them?" Megatron grinned. "How loyal of you."

Optimus shook his helm.

"You know they all got what they deserved."

"No," Optimus said. "You can't just offline mecha, no matter what they've done."

Megatron stared at him. _This mech is still so naïve. You'd think he would grow out of that at some point._ "Of course I can," he said. "I just _did_."

I commed Megatron. _"If the doors are working, the comms might be too. We should go before the Autobots arrive."_

He didn't even acknowledge I had spoken. All of his attention was on his horror-struck rival. "And I'm about to do it again."

Optimus glanced behind himself at the doors, which were now guarded by a dozen of our soldiers. The others we'd brought all backed away to the wall, watching with interest.

The Prime must know there was no way out of this situation. But when he spoke, his voice was steady and calm. "Where is the key to Vector Sigma?"

Megatron pulled it out of subspace and smirked. "You may attempt to take it from me if you like. That might make this more entertaining." He put it back in subspace and his integrated, energon-stained blade slid out of his arm.

Orion glanced to the side, then back up.

"I think it will be fitting, for your friends to find your sparkless frame here." Megatron stalked toward Optimus.

The Prime flinched, but held his ground.

"You will die with these pit-spawned liars and murderers," Megatron continued. "Because you are one of them."

A sort of calm resignation settled across Optimus's faceplate. "No more than you are," he said quietly.

Megatron roared and lunged at him. Optimus threw himself out of the way and rolled, ending up in a crouch. He picked up a sword that had been lying next to the offline frame of an Elite Guardsmech and stood.

Megatron turned to face him.

"Oh," he said, "There's a nice surprise."

The Decepticons roared their approval as Megatron charged Optimus. We really didn't have time for this, but if Megatron offlined him quickly, then we could leave before it was too late…

Megatron was almost as surprised as I was when Optimus deflected his blade and nearly threw him to the ground.

They backed away from each other and circled.

"Someone's been practicing," Megatron grinned. "Impressive, but you're still just a librarian."

They engaged again. Optimus fought valiantly, but Megatron pushed him back, laughing as the crowd cheered.

Optimus tried to disengage, but Megatron didn't let him, raining down blows on him that the Prime could barely block.

And then with an audio-splitting shatter, Optimus's blade broke and Megatron's cut deep into his arm. The Prime fell with a shout and Megatron planted a pede on his chassis to keep him from getting back up.

He raised his blade high, relishing the despair in Optimus's optics, preparing to kill him and leave him here like the rest of them.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Optimus on the ground, holding up his uninjured hand as if to fend the blow off, and Megatron, blade raised, about to bring it down and paint the end of the war in blue energon on the Council floor.

And then suddenly, Megatron's systems shut down and he collapsed.

* * *

Prowl barreled into the Decepticons in the doorway, which was easy because they were all watching the center of the room where Megatron had a blade raised over Optimus. He saw Yoketron throw something and Megatron collapsed an instant later.

Prowl's instincts screamed at him that there were too many Decepticons—that he would never make it out of this—that he should have waited for the rest of the army.

But there was no time for caution or strategy.

"Get Optimus out of here!" Yoketron shouted. "I'll clear the way."

Prowl shoved the unconscious Decepticon leader off of Orion and helped him up while Yoketron single-handedly fended off the Decepticons, taking them out with only throwing stars and his own frame.

But it wasn't going to be enough. There were too many of them, even for Yoketron.

In just a few astroseconds, the three of them were surrounded on all sides.

The room went still.

Soundwave stepped forward. "Surrender," he said. "And y-you will live."

"Look at this," Yoketron replied with sorrow in his voice as he gestured around the room. "Soundwave, what have you _done_?"

The faceless mech froze, then took an uncertain step backward.

Yoketron commed Prowl on an internal frequency and he answered. _"Yoketron, do you have a plan for getting out of here? I don't know if we can stall long enough for the other Autobots to arrive, and whatever we try, Soundwave will know beforehand."_

" _Be ready,"_ Yoketron replied. _"The path is about to clear. Remember, Prowl, don't let the war win."_

What? Prowl glanced over and saw the Circuit-Su master's obvious plan in the tranquil expression on his faceplate. But before he could protest, Yoketron thrust one hand forward and sent Soundwave careening back toward the wall without even touching him.

Then, while the room was distracted, all of the enormous, heavy chairs and benches the Council sat on lifted themselves into the atmosphere and flew at the Decepticons, bowling them over, slamming them to the ground and against the walls…

Clearing a path.

Prowl didn't let the opportunity pass. He grabbed Orion's arm and sprinted for the doors, dragging the Prime with him.

Yoketron had said you couldn't use processor-over-matter for fighting.

He tried to listen as they sprinted away, hoping for some clue about whether the older mech was all right, but there was too much other noise for Prowl to pick out anything about his mentor.

They met the Autobots on the Council steps and Prowl waved them in, still dragging Orion away from the building. He reached Ironhide at the bottom of the steps and handed the Prime off to him.

"Here, I need to go back in there."

"Oh, Primus, I was going to die," Orion sounded shocked. "Yoketron…"

"I'll go get him," Prowl said. "Stay here."

"Prowl, Megatron has the key to Vector Sigma," Optimus said.

"I'll get that too." He turned and sprinted back into the Council Hall, shoving through the ranks of Autobots.

But by the time he got to the Council Chamber—by the time any of them got there, it was too late.

Megatron, Soundwave, the other Decepticons, Yoketron, and the key to Vector Sigma, had all disappeared.

* * *

"What happened?" Ironhide demanded. "You're hurt."

"It's not that bad," Orion said, looking back at the Council Hall. His arm hurt, he supposed, but the more important issues were the fact that the Council was dead, and the key was lost.

And he had no idea what on all of Cybertron had happened at the end, with Soundwave and the chairs. It must have been Yoketron, somehow. It was like what he'd done in the Temple, with that door, but…

Primus. The Council… the key…

"Orion, what _happened?"_ Ironhide demanded again. "Did you just… _run in there by yourself?_ "

"Megatron was there," Orion said. "He killed the Council. They're offline, Ironhide, all of them."

"Pit," Ironhide said.

"And he has the key."

Ironhide scowled and Orion shuttered his optics, remembering the carnage, the energon everywhere, and the offline mecha strewn on the floor. He felt physically sick, and he had to steady himself against Ironhide as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He shuttered his optics, and took in a deep vent. It really wouldn't do for the crowd gathering here to see their Prime empty his tanks on the Council stairs.

" _Are you all right?"_ Ironhide asked over an internal comm.

" _Yes, just in shock, I think,"_ Orion replied. _"I'm not badly hurt."_ He'd really thought for a moment that he had been about to die. He'd seen it in Megatron's optics. It had been the end.

He was almost surprised to be standing here, alive and mostly well.

The Autobots stopped entering the building and started leaving instead. Prowl came back out after a breem, looking defeated.

Orion invited him to the channel he and Ironhide were on. _"Prowl, what happened?"_

" _They must have gotten away through a groundbridge,"_ he said.

" _Is Master Yoketron all right?"_

" _He's gone,"_ Prowl said. _"They may have captured him. All but one of the Councilors is accounted for, and all of the ones accounted for are dead."_

" _Who's missing?"_ Ironhide asked.

" _Senator Ratbat,"_ Prowl replied. _"We have a few prisoners—Decepticons who were unconscious. But other than that…"_

Orion took another deep, calming vent, not sure he wanted to think through the ramifications of all this.

" _And, worst of all, Megatron has the key to Vector Sigma. Orion, could he use it to acquire the Matrix?"_

" _He can't bear the Matrix,"_ Orion replied. _"I sincerely doubt he's worthy, and I know he's not prepared. But I doubt it will stop him from trying, and as long as he has the key, I can't get the Matrix either. He knows that, so if he figures out he can't use it…"_

" _He might destroy it,"_ Prowl finished for him.

" _We need to get it back,"_ Orion said. _"And we need to find out if they have Yoketron."_ They needed Yoketron back as well.

Prowl nodded, looking as calm as ever. _"Maybe we should call an emergency meeting once we know what happened here."_

" _Yes,"_ Orion said.

" _And you should get back to the tower. You're injured."_

Orion nodded again, then walked away from the building, with Ironhide accompanying him.

* * *

Megatron had regained consciousness just a few breems ago and had demanded to know what had happened. I explained over an internal comm. everything that had occurred, how Prowl and Yoketron had showed up, and how we'd gotten everyone who was still alive in the room through the groundbridge and back to Kaon.

Megatron wasn't happy. "I was about to kill Optimus!" he said. "I was about to finish it! And Prowl? He got away _again,_ I suppose."

I nodded. Yoketron had cleared a path using processor-over-matter. I'd heard him think about that technique once or twice when he'd trained Searchlight and I, but I'd never seen it before.

"But you caught the mech who helped them get away."

I nodded reluctantly.

Yoketron had passed out, and I had intended to leave him behind, but some of the other soldiers had brought him through the bridge. If I'd specifically ordered them to leave him, I knew Megatron would find out and be angry with me.

Megatron got up off the berth he'd been on and commed Blackangle.

"Have the mech who helped the Prime escape brought to the command center."

" _Yes, sir,"_ Blackangle said, sounding bored.

I followed Megatron, feeling anxious. I'd hoped to have some time, maybe to talk him out of killing Yoketron. After all, Yoketron was apparently training Orion, and could be useful as some sort of a bargaining chip.

But Megatron was angry. He'd been robbed of his chance to win the war this orn, and he wanted to punish someone for it.

I followed him to the command center and took up my post at my computer terminal while Megatron sat on his throne and waited.

They brought Yoketron in and I expanded my range so I could hear him.

He was not doing well. Something in him had… broken when he'd used the chairs to clear the path. I had felt it then, and I could still feel it now. He was shaking, barely strong enough to stand, and his spark felt like it was being stabbed over and over with every spark pulse.

He could barely focus, but on the outside he seemed calm and collected

"So," Megatron said. "Who are you?"

Yoketron stared at him. _There he is… and yet there he isn't._ "Oh, mechling," he said. "You've gotten so lost, haven't you?"

"What?" Megatron narrowed his optics. "Answer my question!"

 _Primus Almighty, did it hurt this badly last time?_ "What does it matter?" Yoketron said. _I have to focus. This is my one chance…_ "You only summoned me here to offline me, didn't you?" He glanced in my direction. _Soundwave, can you hear me? Prowl told me you're a telepath. You should have said something. I could have helped you. I_ knew _telepaths during the Quintesson wars…_

Megatron stood and powered up his arm cannon. "Do you realize if you'd let me kill Optimus, this war would be over? No one else would need to die. If it weren't for you, it would be _over!_ "

Yoketron turned his attention back to the gladiator. _This is my fault. If it weren't for me, this war wouldn't have started. If it weren't for me, you would have died in the mines, mechling. But we can't dwell on past choices we have no control over. We can only move forward and try to make better ones._

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I have said before, falsehoods do not become you," Yoketron said, feeling suddenly stern. "Do not try to claim that Orion's murder would have been your last." _Soundwave, you can stop this. You're the only one who can stop this._

Megatron frowned. _Something about this mech makes me uneasy. He's not afraid of me… and there's something uncannily familiar about him… he pretends to know me, but he must be mistaken, or lying, or insane. And I'm getting tired of this conversation._

I looked down. I wanted to stand up, to say something, to defend Yoketron.

But I didn't.

"Are you even listening to me?" Megatron demanded. "Do you even know who I _am_?"

"Do you?" Yoketron countered calmly.

"Enough," Megatron said. "If I was feeling more patient, I might make you suffer for what you've done first but I don't have time for that, and you obviously won't be any use to me alive."

Yoketron was silent. His vision blurred and he swayed a little as he fought to stay on his pedes. _He had better hurry up or I'll ruin his moment by collapsing on my own._

"Well?" Megatron said. "Any last words, you raving lunatic?"

Yoketron looked up again, but he wasn't looking at Megatron. _My friend from the wars, the telepath… I should have realized you reminded me of him. And I know how hard it is for telepaths to lose mecha…_ "Soundwave," he said.

I didn't look at him, though I was watching myself through his optics.

"Soundwave, you can't save him." _Please, mechling, I know it's hard, but you have to move on. You aren't as far gone as he is yet. I can tell there's still good in you. You can tip the scales if you choose to. This mech is nothing more than what the pits of Kaon made him. Searchlight is gone. Let him go._

He was wrong.

Searchlight was standing right there. He was badly damaged, but he wasn't gone. I could hear him—his thoughts, his emotions, everything. Still there.

I didn't pull my range back when Megatron fired.

I listened.

I listened as Yoketron's spark went out. I felt his death tear through me. It scrambled my core, leaving me empty and sick and disoriented and sparkless.

But that twisted feeling was better than mourning, better than guilt, and I'd always known my powers would drive me insane some orn.

I turned back to my terminal, aware that Megatron was watching me closely, and went back to work.


	50. What Next?

"If I'm being completely honest," the news anchor said. "No one is sure whether to celebrate or hide under their berths right now. And we all want to know what your plan is, what you're going to do about the loss of the Council."

Orion faced the camera, trying to look as calm and confident as he could. "We will do all we can," he said. "The Council, while openly corrupt, did manage the affairs of the city, and with them gone there is real concern that things may devolve into chaos."

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he could prevent that. He would do his best, but... there were so many things he just couldn't do.

"We cannot replace the Council, nor do we wish to, but my hope is that we can keep things as stable as possible, and the Autobots will handle administration until another method of maintaining order can be put in place."

They already had so much to do. If Megatron attacked now, Orion wasn't sure if his army would be able to defend, not with the entire command element working on plans to keep the city from collapsing in on itself... But he couldn't worry about that now. He had to finish his speech and hope that it would make a difference—that it would convince the citizens of Iacon to participate in keeping the peace.

"However, we cannot do this on our own. I will need the help of every mech, femme, and youngling in this city-state. We need you to stay calm and to be patient. I cannot promise that the next several decaorns will be easy. Eventually, I hope things will be better than they were before, but that will take time.

"To everyone listening, I vow that we will do our best to keep things under control from the top, but I need every citizen and soldier among my listeners to keep things under control in your homes and in your neighborhoods. Many of you are afraid or angry. Some others may see this as an opportunity for misconduct and lawbreaking. I assure you that the laws of this city-state will still be enforced, just as they were before. Besides, I see a brighter opportunity in this tragedy. Megatron has committed yet another act of terrorism in the hopes that he can turn us against ourselves. We must prove to him that he _can't_. This is an opportunity to prove to him, to each other, and to all of Cybertron that this great city-state can stand together in peace, no matter what happens. I implore each of you to help us prove that."

Orion went on to describe in more detail what the Autobots would be doing, and what he expected the citizens of Iacon to do.

More mecha had died in Kaon due to rioting than at the hands of the newly-formed Decepticons.

Orion would _not_ allow that to happen in his city.

* * *

This meeting had already gone on too long. Jazz let his processor wander as he slumped down in his chair. The Council being gone was kind of a mess—the kind of mess he really didn't want to deal with. This was why he'd opted to leave Quantum instead of sticking around to destroy the organization.

That sort of thing was possible, but it was never simple, especially after the old regime was gone.

"…Jazz?"

Jazz looked up. Everyone was watching him. "Um… ya mind repeating that, Prime?"

"I asked if you had any further ideas about retrieving the Key to Vector Sigma."

So they were back to this topic again. They'd gone around a few times. What to do about the key? What do to about the Council and the fact that there was no leadership in the city? What to do about the Elite Guard who had abandoned the Council to their fate against Orion's wishes but wanted to join the Autobots now? Who should be in charge of figuring out the different pieces of this great big mess?

Well, Jazz could do his part. "Yeah," he said. "I told ya, it'll be hard, but it ain't impossible. I'll just go down ta Kaon and see if I can't steal it back."

"If…" Orion said, looking troubled. "Jazz, I can still feel the key. I believe I would be able to locate it if I came along."

"Are you fragging kidding me?" Jazz said, even before Ironhide or Red Alert could protest. "Even if ya weren't suddenly the busiest mech on the face of the planet, there is no way I'd let ya put yourself in that sort of danger."

"And Soundwave can't hear my thoughts," Orion pointed out.

Jazz hesitated—that was a fair point. "Still too dangerous."

Orion sighed. "In any case, you're right. I'm too busy for a trip to Kaon at the moment, but... at least think about letting me help. I'd be able to lead you to the key, wherever it is."

Jazz nodded. "Thanks, mech," he said. "I'll do that."

He caught Ironhide glaring at him and smiled and shook his helm slightly, hoping the other mech understood that he was _not_ considering bringing Orion along on a mission like this. "But really, let me take the key problem. I'll get it back for ya."

"Thank you," Orion said, and the topic changed again.

Jazz studied the table, wondering whether Megatron would keep the key with him or hide it somewhere. This mission would require some recon before Jazz could actually attempt to steal the key. He wished Soundwave couldn't read _his_ mind. That would make things so much easier.

Still, he could do this. This was just another challenge—something to test himself against. He'd outwitted the telepath before, and he could do it again.

He had to.

Getting that key back was not optional.

He leaned his chair back on two legs as he contemplated how to go about the task. Megatron would surely keep the key close, and Soundwave went pretty much wherever Megatron went, so there was little hope of stealing it without them knowing. But he could work with that, especially if he came up with a good enough plan. He was overdue for a visit to Kaon anyway. He did have a steady stream of information coming to him from the Decepticon capitol, courtesy of his lingering ties to Quantum, but it would be good to check on things personally…

The door to the meeting room opened, revealing an old, scarred mech. He looked vaguely familiar…he was one of the mechs who trained soldiers, wasn't he? And... Jazz had seen him somewhere before, but a lot of his memory files were damaged so he couldn't figure out when.

In any case, he didn't belong in this meeting room. How had he gotten into the tower? Jazz watched the mech out of the corner of one optic, lowering his chair down to the floor again, and scooting it away from the table so he could get up quickly if he needed to.

The old mech didn't come in, though, just crossed his arms and stood in the doorway, looking surly. Slowly the room fell to silence as the other mecha noticed him. Ironhide looked confused, Orion looked worried, and Prowl _would_ have seemed calm except that the hand holding his datapad was shaking ever so slightly.

"Who are you?" Red Alert demanded. "How did you get in here!"

"I asked nicely," the mech growled, then addressed Orion. "Prime, I got a message for you."

Ironhide answered. "From who?" he said. "Couldn't you have commed us, Kup?"

"From me," the old mech said. "I guess… I guess I have something to say to you too, mechling. I'm quitting the whole training thing."

"What?" Ironhide said. "But we need—"

"I can't keep sending all these mechlings out to get themselves blown up, I'm done. I'm... sorry."

"What is the message for me?" Orion asked, voice barely more than a whisper, in a tone that suggested he didn't actually want to know. There was an almost tangible tension in the atmosphere as Kup made optic contact with the Prime.

"Yoketron's dead."

Jazz froze.

"I don't know how that factors into your training," Kup said. "But I thought you ought to know."

Orion bowed his helm and was silent.

"That's all." Kup nodded, then turned and left.

The door closed behind him and no one spoke for several astroseconds.

Eventually, Ultra Magnus turned to look at Orion. "Prime, Sir?"

"Meeting adjourned," Orion said. "For now. We'll… continue this discussion in the meeting next orn."

He got up from the table and left the room, and Elita got up and followed him out.

Then, slowly, the others took to their pedes, and trickled out as well.

"How would that mech know if Yoketron's offline?" Ratchet grumbled quietly, breaking the spell of quiet. Quiet murmuring accompanied the end of the exodus, with Ironhide explaining that Yoketron and that other old mech had been brothers, and Chromia and Moonracer whispering about whether Orion was all right.

Prowl got up from the table when Ultra Magnus did, and walked stiffly to the door, avoiding optic contact with everyone. From what Jazz knew, that was fairly normal, but he couldn't help being concerned anyway. Yoketron had been training him too.

Frag.

Jazz had never had a chance to apologize to the old mech for getting in so much trouble when he was younger. He'd always put it off…

And now it was too late.

He shoved that thought aside and hurried after Mainspring. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, and he couldn't do that until he'd talked to the other mech.

Mainspring saw him, and led the way to his office.

"So," Jazz said once they were inside. "I'm going ta Kaon as soon as I can, probably within the joor. I'm just gonna go do some recon this time, probably, then maybe come back for a bit."

"That is a lot of probablys and maybes," Mainspring said. "I assume you want me to take over your half of the department while you're gone."

"Yes," Jazz said. "I should be a few orns at the most, and I'll try ta contact ya pretty frequently. I wanna make sure ya be careful about something, though. I've been doing it, but I'll be gone, so I need ya ta take over."

"Yes?" Mainspring said.

"The 'cons still got that shapeshifter mech. Whenever anyone comes back from a mission, ya need ta check and make sure it's them."

Mainspring nodded. "We'll be careful about that."

"I did my research," Jazz said. "There are some good ways ta know. Mechformers can't take your comm. code, so if someone claims their comm. is damaged, but won't go see Ratchet about it, that's a dead giveaway. Also, special mods like Mirage's won't get transferred ta him. And just ta make sure, ya should interview everymech that comes back from anywhere they could get captured. Ask them questions, but pay more attention ta the _way_ they talk."

Mainspring nodded.

"And we should give the whole department some training on that, maybe after I get that key back. I don't have time right now."

"I'll pass on the information," Mainspring said. "I think it would be better coming from you, but I can train them a little. I've looked into it as well."

Mirage commed him, but Jazz didn't answer just yet. "There's some other stuff ya should know while I'm gone," Jazz set a datapad down on the desk. "It's all in here. If ya need anything else, I'm gonna be available over the comm. for at least half a joor."

"All right," Mainspring said. "Good luck."

"Thanks mech," Jazz said and left his office, then answered Mirage's comm. "Hey, sorry 'Raj, ya need something?"

" _I heard Megatron stole something important. Are you going to Kaon to get it back?"_

"Yep."

" _Do you want me to accompany you?"_

That was the last thing Jazz had expected to hear. "Do you wanna?"

" _Absolutely not,"_ Mirage said. _"But I know how important this is and If I can help, I want to help."_

Jazz considered it for a few astroseconds. "Thanks mech. This time I'll go on my own. Since we're expecting Soundwave ta be there, ya wouldn't be much help." That was a lie, but he didn't want Mirage going back there yet, not when the possibility of being captured was this high.

Jazz was almost glad for the excuse to leave. He was starting to get really sick of this tower, and he didn't want to be here now. What with the death of the Council and the mess that was going to cause, plus Yoketron being offline...

Honestly, though, he would need a break even without all of that. The Tagan Heights battle was still weighing on him.

His promise was well and truly broken now. He'd known it was inevitable, but he'd been trying to hold onto that selfish hope that he wouldn't have to give it up.

It wasn't even the killing itself that bothered him so much—you didn't really _think_ when you were killing someone, about the fact that this was a living, pulsing spark and you were about to snuff it out. Or, at least, Jazz didn't think about that. He didn't think about much at all—he just felt things, and they weren't all unpleasant feelings.

No, it wasn't the killing itself, it was after the killing, when he thought back on it. It was that look on the faceplate of the Autobot soldier who'd seen him, that reminder of the life he'd lived, of the things he'd done in Quantum. The reminder of what he'd been—and what, somewhere deep down, he still was.

He also kept thinking about that young mech who'd been in charge of the unit. It hurt to think that there were so many—so many good, honorable, noble mecha dying in this war. Mecha who Jazz could have been friends with—mecha who laughed and joked one breem and then were gone the next.

And there had to be some of that kind among the enemy—those who were confused, who actually believed in Megatron and his cause, who hated the Autobots because the Autobots had killed their friends, just like they had killed Autobots. War was a downward spiral.

Too much thinking.

Which was why he needed to leave. He needed to get away and immerse himself in a challenge. He could get the Key to Vector Sigma. Maybe with the Matrix of Leadership, Orion would be able to end the war peacefully.

Either way, they needed it.

He left the base and drove. He'd go to Kalis to bridge down to Simfur. Then he'd drive from there to Kaon. It would be nice to give his wheels some exercise.

* * *

Orion skimmed through his list of tasks, trying to prioritize, trying not to get overwhelmed. Running an army had been hard enough—now he had to run a city-state _and_ an army.

There were some mecha—some lower government officials—who had requested to be appointed as a temporary Council, but Orion knew they were just as corrupt as the Council had been and he couldn't, in good conscience, put them in charge. So until he could find someone he _did_ trust, _he_ had to be in charge.

He hadn't had a spare moment since the Council had been offlined—it was almost enough to distract him from the fact that Master Yoketron was gone.

Almost.

Orion set his datapad aside for a moment, shuttering his optics and venting deeply. He didn't have time to grieve now. That could wait.

Elita commed him. _"Orion, do you have a breem to talk?"_

" _If it's important, yes."_

" _We've been getting hundreds of letters from citizens requesting we change various laws, even more than we got last orn. Some of them are reasonable, but a lot of them are just selfish or downright wrong."_

" _There are some laws that need to be changed."_

" _That's true, but if we change some, we'll just keep getting more and more of these requests. My team can't keep up with them."_

" _Can you forward some of the reasonable ones to me?"_ Orion said. _"I'll look over them if I have time."_

" _All right. Did the Elite Guard issue get solved?"_

" _Ultra Magnus still doesn't want to trust them, Ironhide wants to trust some of them… I don't know. I should probably talk to them before we make any decisions, and I haven't had time yet."_

" _Okay,"_ Elita said. _"Another thing, Orion. This isn't related to the Council, but it seemed important, so I thought I'd pass it on. Do you remember the Simfur Temple Defender? Venture was his designation. He sent you a message. Something about a problem with the core of Cybertron."_

" _I'll look at it."_

" _I've forwarded it to you."_

" _Thank you."_

" _Have you gotten any recharge since last orn?"_

Orion smiled. _"I'm all right."_

She knew the answer, he was certain. She hadn't gotten any recharge either, so she really didn't have any grounds to complain that he was working too hard.

" _You're a terrible liar."_

" _I know. I haven't had time. You should get some rest, though."_

" _If I get some rest, will you?"_

" _Soon."_

" _How soon? I'll keep working as long as you do."_

" _Ellie, please rest. Don't hurt yourself to blackmail me."_

" _Okay."_ He could feel her amusement over the bond. _"I'll just send Ratchet after you if you don't take a break soon. Is that a more acceptable form of blackmail?"_

" _Suitably threatening,"_ Orion said. _"I'll get some recharge as soon as I can. I promise."_

" _All right."_

" _Elita?"_

" _Hmm?"_

" _I love you."_

There was a moment of silence, and he felt happiness over the bond, followed quickly by sorrow. Orion shuttered his optics. She deserved more of his time, more of his attention.

" _I love you too. Don't feel bad, really, we're all just tired right now. I'll talk to you later."_ She cut the comm.

Orion went back to work. He needed to hurry now, so he could catch up and get a few joors of recharge. He wasn't really scared of Ratchet—though he had to admit the prospect of the high-strung medic's wrath was a little intimidating. The larger fear was not living up to what Elita needed from him. He tried to force himself to stop feeling guilty, because he knew it bothered her. He didn't need another rant about how she had chosen to be with him and she had _known_ it would be hard, and she was _entitled_ to feeling sad about it without him overreacting.

Well, a tiny part of him _did_ want to hear that rant again, just because it would have prolonged their conversation—because she _would_ put down her work to deliver it very loudly over the comm.

He smiled slightly as he found the message from Venture and opened the file on his datapad.

Then he read:

[Optimus Prime,

I hope this message reaches you swiftly, as this is a matter of utmost importance. We have known—and I presume you do as well—that Primus has been abnormally silent and uninvolved for the past several decavorns. He has not spoken to his original Primes for many vorns and we who look for these things have seen fewer signs of his life and movement than there should be.

The recent drop in energon production in mines around the globe, coupled with the even more recent reports of poisoned energon veins prompted myself and some of my mecha to travel to the core. We wanted to see if we could find anything amiss there or anything that would help us understand Primus's recent silence and stillness.

What we discovered was nothing short of horrifying. The core is poisoned. Primus is ill—he is failing. He may even be offlining, and if he dies, then we will all die with him.

Optimus Prime, you must come to Simfur and visit the core. As the most recent chosen Prime—the world's current connection to our god—you will have the best chance of communicating with him and discovering what ails him.

The sooner you can come, the better. I do not know how much time we have before Primus is too ill to speak. He would not speak to us, and we could not remain there long, because the atmosphere was toxic. I anxiously await your response and a visit from you.

Regards,

Venture

High Defender of Simfur Temple]

Orion read the message a second time, from top to bottom, barely processing the words. The core… poisoned?

He couldn't do this.

The Key, the Council, the core, what next? How many things could they ask him to do? He didn't have _time_ for anything else. He could _not_ leave Iacon and go to Simfur to do this. He could _not_ talk to Primus. Maybe if he had the Matrix—maybe if he was _actually_ a Prime.

This was not his responsibility, and even if it was, what exactly was _he_ supposed to do about it? If Primus was dying, he couldn't prevent it any more than he could turn the sun back or build a third moon. He didn't have any power, or any authority for this. He was just an ordinary mech, trying to save as many lives as he could and right now his city, which he was responsible for, was on the brink of collapse. This was a critical time. He didn't have a breem to spare, much less the orn it would take to make a trip to Simfur and go down to visit the core.

The core. The core was poisoned. How? And Primus was immortal. He couldn't die, could he?

Orion took in a deep vent, trying to calm down. He had no idea what to do about this. But maybe Alpha Trion would. He didn't have to deal with this right now. He could pass it off, he could delegate or at least ask for advice.

He didn't have too much time to spend thinking about it. He started drafting a letter to send back to Venture.

[Venture,

Thank you for your letter. This is very disturbing news. However, I do not feel I am qualified for what you are asking me to do. You may not know this, but I have not yet received the Matrix of Leadership and there are still many obstacles in the way of my acquiring it. I will forward your message to Alpha Trion in the case that you have not already informed him, and ask him to help you. I am also currently unable to leave Iacon. If you are still certain that you specifically need my assistance, I might be able to come in a few quartexes, or maybe even a few decaorns if I can get some other things done]

He re-read what he had so far. It was terrible. It made it sound like he didn't care.

He was tempted to erase it and start over, but how else was he supposed to say this? He didn't want to lie and pretend he was coming. He couldn't just drop everything and go. There was also no chance he could change the outcome of whatever was happening with the core, but he _was_ certain he could change the outcome of what was happening in Iacon. He continued.

[My deep apologies. I understand that it sounds as if I am taking this lightly. I promise you, what you described in your letter terrifies me. But I know no way to repair it, and forgive me, but if Primus isn't talking to the original thirteen, there is no chance of him talking to one such as me. If I leave Iacon now, mecha will offline. Please understand, I wish I could do something but I cannot go in person.

Sincere apologies,

Optimus Prime]

It was still terrible, but it was the truth. He sent it, then sent Alpha Trion a quick message along with a copy of Venture's letter. Then he went back to what he'd been working on before.

* * *

The wall-length monitor was covered with text and lines, references and cross-references. Alpha Trion stood at his computer console, fingers moving almost of their own accord as he studied, analyzed, and made connections. He felt like he was missing something. Something important, some piece to the puzzle that he hadn't found.

There was always more that you could learn from the Covenant of Primus.

Primus could see the future the way a traveler could view a rugged landscape. He couldn't see _everything,_ but he knew if he made certain decisions, it would take lead to certain outcomes. After that first disastrous interaction with the Quintessons, Primus had decided to withdraw himself from society. Instead of giving immediate guidance and counsel like he had before that time, he had given Alpha Trion the Covenant of Primus to be their guidebook.

Primus had still spoken, of course, at least to Alpha Trion and his siblings. He had been available to give guidance and clarification as needed…at least until recently. Alpha Trion hadn't spoken to him for more than a decavorn—neither had any of the other Primes. It was one of the things that had, for the past ten vorns, made him even more desperate to find the last Prime that the Covenant spoke of.

The next several chapters in this world's history were going to be very dark. Alpha Trion still didn't understand why, but it almost seemed like Primus was doing more than just letting it happen. He had chosen Yoketron to train Optimus… had he known that Yoketron would also train Megatron? In the Covenant, it was predicted that two great leaders would rise up to fight each other, one a champion for the light, the other for darkness. One shall stand. One shall fall. Primus had known that this would happen, but had he caused it?

They couldn't ask him. Now that the core was dying, Alpha Trion wasn't even certain Primus was conscious anymore.

Alpha Trion's fingers stilled and he looked down. There were hints in the Covenant about Primus going dark, but nothing that hinted he would be poisoned.

Had he just not wanted to tell them? Or was his malady something he hadn't foreseen?

Alpha Trion got a comm. from Maccadam. Reluctantly, he answered it.

" _Where are you?"_

" _Where do you think?"_ Alpha Trion replied.

" _You're not supposed to go anywhere without taking someone,"_ Maccadam said. _"Buddy system, mech."_

" _Megatronus can't get into the Hall of Records, it's the best-fortified building in the city."_

" _You're underestimating him,"_ Maccadam said _. "I'll send Quintus and Solus to keep you company."_

Alpha Trion sighed, but didn't argue. He didn't like living in the basement of his brother's energon bar. He didn't want his siblings here all the time, either.

" _So…"_ Maccadam said over the still-open comm. _"What are you going to do about training?"_

" _Hmm?"_ Alpha Trion said.

" _Orion. About training Orion. Yoketron's offline."_

Alpha Trion froze. _"He… he's offline?"_

" _Yeah, I thought you knew that. He went in to save Orion from the Council, and the Decepticons captured him. Kup says he's offline."_

Alpha Trion knew that the Decepticons had the Key to Vector Sigma now, but he hadn't heard about Yoketron.

This was not good.

" _You can train him at my place if you want,"_ Maccadam said. _"It's secure, and I can get him here without endangering him too much."_

Alpha Trion looked up at the monitor, where all of his work on the Covenant of Primus was.

" _Alph?"_

Yoketron was offline… but he was supposed to train the last Prime. That was one of the few things Alpha Trion had never questioned. How could the mech have offlined, after surviving so long? How could he have been so careless…

Everything was going wrong. Primus was ill, Yoketron was offline, the Key to Vector Sigma was in the hands of the wrong champion, and Orion was not ready to receive the Matrix.

This couldn't all be part of the plan, could it? What was he missing?

" _Alph? Hello?"_

" _I need to think about this,"_ he said. _"I'll talk to you later."_ He cut the comm, and immediately his datapad pinged.

Frowning, he checked it and saw he had a message from Orion. Hoping against hope for good news, he opened the message and began to read.

But it was only more trouble.

* * *

Notes:

1\. There will be a spare parts chapter next week Monday or Tuesday.

2\. Thanks for reading!


	51. Duties

Orion looked up when the door opened and Alpha Trion entered his office. Trion looked upset about something, and for just a moment, Orion was annoyed that his former mentor had just barged in. He had plenty of things to deal with already, he didn't need someone else telling him what to do.

Then he banished that thought. "Alpha Trion," he said. "Welcome. Is everything all right? Can I help you with anything?"

"I don't have time for this and I know you don't either," Alpha Trion said. "So I will make it as brief as I can. You, Optimus Prime, are neglecting your duty."

Orion frowned. "I'm not certain… if I understand what you mean."

"A Prime is a spiritual leader," Alpha Trion said. "Spiritual, Orion. As the need arises, he or she may also act in a political or military role, but first and foremost, your role is as Primus's liaison."

Orion looked down.

"You sent me a message you had received from the High Defender of the Simfur Temple. It is your task to address his concerns. No, that was not a mistake—he was right to send it to _you_."

"I don't have time," Orion said.

"No, you don't, because you're wasting time doing things you shouldn't."

"If I don't hold this city together, mecha will offline."

"If you don't perform the tasks Primus has given you, then we will _all_ offline. You must deal with what is happening at the core, and you must also resume your training to receive the Matrix."

"But…" Orion said, feeling lost. "Without the key, there's no point…"

"Other way around," Alpha Trion said. "If you aren't ready, then there's no point to having the key. Train first. There will be opportunities to get it back, unless Megatron drops it into a smelting pit."

"What if he does?"

"I don't know," Alpha Trion said. "We'll have to find the Matrix some other way. In any case, it doesn't excuse you from training."

"How can I train? Yoketron's…" Orion stopped, and looked away, frustration and pain overloading his core.

Alpha Trion was silent for a moment.

"We've confirmed he's offline," Orion said.

"I'm sorry," Alpha Trion spoke more quietly. "He was a good mech… you can still continue to move through the trials. I have asked Maccadam to help you with them."

"What about you?"

"I'm far too busy."

Orion hesitated, then looked up to meet his mentor's gaze. "Then so am I."

Alpha Trion's optic ridges shot up.

"I am… no longer your assistant, Alpha Trion, so please stop treating me like a youngling who needs correction. I am doing the best I know how to help the mecha I have vowed to help. I am very tired, and I have recently lost a wise mentor and a close friend. I respect and admire you and always will, Alpha Trion, but… I would like to request some respect in return, if you're willing to offer it."

Alpha Trion studied him thoughtfully.

Orion waited for him to speak.

Slowly, the older mech stepped forward and sat across the desk from Orion. "You are a youngling, to me," he said quietly. "And sometimes you do need correction. But you are right. Forgive me."

"If you say that I need to go to the core," Orion said, "I will trust your judgment, and I will try to go. Do you know if anything can be done to help Primus?"

Alpha Trion was silent.

"Alpha Trion?"

"Many will say," Alpha Trion said. "That Primus's illness stemmed from the war itself, but it has been going on longer than that. My siblings and I have known for some time that he was unwell but… Mechling, you must understand, Primus has always been there to answer our questions. Now that he's not speaking to us... We don't know what to do. We don't know what may be wrong with him, or if he can be helped. Like you, I'd rather control the things I can, and ignore the larger problems, but those have a way of catching up to you eventually."

Seeing Alpha Trion look so worried was unsettling. Orion almost wished the mech would go back to chastising him.

"And my concern about your training," Alpha Trion said, "is that if Primus does… go dark, before you receive the Matrix… I don't know if it will work without him. I don't know if… it's even possible to become a Prime without Primus… We have run out of time. You are not ready, but Primus could go dark any orn, and you must receive the Matrix before he does..."

"But we don't have the key."

"Perhaps you're right that you should make that a priority then. Do you have plans to retrieve it?"

"Yes," Orion said. "We're working on that."

"Good. My siblings may be willing to help, though we don't want to get involved for fear of involving the Fallen."

Orion nodded. "I will let Jazz know you are available to help."

"Good," Alpha Trion said. "And… I will respect your decision to stay here instead of going to Simfur to check on the Core, though I think it's foolishness—trying to save one city when the whole world is at stake."

"I will not abandon Iacon to internal collapse."

"Then you should find others to run it," Alpha Trion said. "In fact, if I were you, I'd have done that already. If you had, you would have time to focus your energy on the more important things."

"Thank you. We _are_ trying, but it's difficult to know who to trust. Alpha Trion?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you weren't… with the rest of the Council when they were attacked."

"Thank you," Alpha Trion said. "I'm glad that you didn't get yourself killed either, charging in to rescue them like you did."

Orion looked down.

"Well, I should go," Alpha Trion said. "But if you need anything I can help with… let me know."

"Thank you."

"I'll have Maccadam contact you about training."

"Again, thank you."

"And… if you ever need wisdom, and you have no one to turn to… read the Covenant of Primus. It holds many answers."

Orion watched him go, and then put his helm down on the table. Was he doing the wrong thing? Alpha Trion was probably right, but he had to do this. He didn't trust anyone else to handle the issues in the city right now. Maybe in a few decaorns when things calmed down again. Would that be too late?

* * *

Prowl didn't know what he would do if the Council hadn't been killed off, providing them with enough work to last them for decaorns. He didn't know what he would do if he couldn't lose himself all orn every orn, working late into the offcycle until he was so tired he couldn't think.

The work was absolutely essential. It kept everything else at bay—the exhaustion, the anxiety, and most importantly of all, Master Yoketron's death.

He finished one task, then started another, going down his long, long list.

Yoketron was gone. Dead. Prowl had known mecha to offline before, but never anyone so close to him. Part of him felt guilty for going on with his life as if nothing had happened. He knew others would see him acting normal and think that he didn't care. But he had to keep going, had to keep working, had to pretend everything was normal. If he didn't, then… then what? He didn't know, but there was a sense that _something_ terrible would happen if he faced the facts. And that inexplicable fear was strong enough to keep him up late into the off-cycle, and wake him after only a few joors of recharge. Yoketron's death was like a pitch black abyss, looming behind him, ready to swallow him whole, and the only way to keep it at bay was to pretend it wasn't there, to distract himself, to focus on what he was doing so intensely that he didn't have to feel it.

He finished his next task and a low fuel warning popped up in his processor. He was tempted to dismiss it, but this was the third one, and he really should refuel so he could keep up with his work.

He pushed away from his desk and made his way out to the front room. He didn't talk to anyone as he got a cube of energon and turned to take it back to his office. He heard someone come up behind him and determined it was Mainspring before the mech caught up to him.

"Prowl," he said. "How long have you been in your office?"

"I've been busy."

"So have we all," Mainspring said. "But no one's seen you for more than an orn. I wanted to talk to you."

"I saw you at the meeting last orn," Prowl said. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Yes, and then we all rushed off to get things done. I'm worried about you. How are you doing?"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," Prowl said. "And I don't have time to waste. I need to get back to my work."

Mainspring fell behind for a moment and Prowl resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably just offended one of the few mecha who didn't actively dislike him.

"Well, if you need to talk, you know where you can find me."

Prowl didn't answer, just hurried to his office and threw himself back into his work.

* * *

"So," I said. "Good ne-ews fo-or you."

The prisoner looked up, not very comforted. He'd been working on an escape plan, plotting my death, thinking about trying again to convince me to release him. It was pathetic.

I continued. "Lord Megatron doesn't want po-olitical prisoners in the mines, e-even without their memories," I said.

 _What does that mean?_ "You'll let me go then?" Ratbat said. _Or kill me. He might kill me, oh Primus save me, I can't believe I ended up in this mess._

And there was that mentality, that belief that he deserved better than this, the belief that he deserved to live.

"I wo-on't let you go," I said. Ravage, who was sitting on my shoulder, purred approvingly.

"Don't kill me. I can be useful. I have information. I'll tell you everything."

I thought about that. I wasn't sure I _wanted_ to know everything about the Council, but some of his thoughts made me curious… "All right," I said. "If y-you tell me eno-ough, I'll let you live." Death was too good for him anyway. And besides, I wanted this revenge to belong to me, and I wasn't a killer.

So he talked. He told me some truth and some lies, trying to make himself look like the victim, but of course that wasn't going to help him.

I just listened, until he spilled out all of the Council's despicable secrets. By the time he was done, all doubts had fled my processor. Orion might believe he was right and we were wrong. But this wasn't even about right and wrong anymore, this was about Cybertron's survival.

They all had to go. All the Councils. Every government official, whether or not they knew who Halogen had been working for. All of them.

Would what I'd just heard from Ratbat ever reach Megatron's audios? Probably not. It didn't matter. The process of removing society's structure was already underway. He didn't need encouragement, and I definitely didn't want him to get any stupid ideas about what Ratbat had told me.

We could _not_ ally ourselves with the forces contaminating the Council system.

"So, you'll let me live?" Ratbat whined pitifully.

I nodded and unlocked his cell.

 _Why?_ Ravage demanded. _He ruined everything. We should kill him._

"Oh, thank you!" Ratbat said as he slipped out of his cell, but he was planning to attack me and make a run for it as soon as my back was turned. So I pinned him to the wall and put stasis cuffs on him before he had a chance. Ravage was right. He deserved to die—he deserved worse—but since I couldn't send him to the mines, I had to explore other options.

I'd had an idea. Back when I was younger, the concept would have disgusted me, but it seemed right at this point. Both merciless and merciful, both cruel and kind, better than he deserved at the very least. And most important, it was manageable, familiar.

"Come with me," I told him.

"Where are we going? You said you'd set me free."

I had said I'd let him live. Those were two very different things.

I beckoned for him to come. He didn't trust me and a large part of him wanted to try to fight or run. He wouldn't make it that far if he did. The very large cat on my shoulders would be more than happy to chase him down and bring him back.

But Ratbat made the wise choice for once and simply followed me.

It was probably a good thing he didn't know where we were going or I might have to drag him there.

We were going to have to leave the building to reach our destination. I wasn't sure why the place they'd chosen for Shockwave's lab wasn't really attached to the rest of the base, but that was the way Megatron wanted it. He wasn't _scared_ of Shockwave, but some subconscious part of his processor must instinctively want to keep the scientist at arm's length.

Once we were out under the open sky, Ratbat decided he did want to run for it after all. Ravage leaped down and chased after him. I watched as my symbiot knocked him over, pinning him to the ground.

Ratbat whimpered as Ravage dug his claws in deeper than necessary.

I walked over. "Let him up," I said. Ravage reluctantly released him and climbed back onto my shoulders, claws shiny with wet energon.

I reached down and pulled Ratbat to his pedes. "Come," I said again.

"Where are we going? You promised you wouldn't kill me."

I nodded and put a hand on his shoulder to firmly guide him toward the building.

We entered Shockwave's lab and I expanded my range to find him. Fortunately he wasn't busy at the moment, just analyzing some data. I led Ratbat through the halls, shrinking my range again, because none of the processors in here were pleasant to be in. When we reached his office, I had Ravage get down and told him to stay outside and wait for me.

Shockwave looked up from his computer terminal when Ratbat and I came in. He was curious as to why I was here, and why I had brought the senator. He remembered Ratbat, of course. Unlike Searchlight, Shockwave had kept all his memories from before. I didn't need to hear it from either of them to know that Ratbat had been a loud influence for sending Shockwave to the Institute. I realized the scientist deserved revenge as well, even though he bore no ill feelings toward the senator. That made this idea even better.

"What are we doing here?" Ratbat whined again.

"Silence," I said quietly, in a way that sent chills down his back.

"Soundwave," Shockwave said. "Why have you come here?"

"I have a request."

Shockwave nodded, ready to hear me out.

"And a question," I continued. "Is it possible to make a mech into a symbiot?"

Ratbat gasped and backed away. "What?" he said. "Why? That's not…"

"I have not tried," Shockwave said, and now that the question was in his helm, it wasn't going to leave until he answered it. "I would be willing to attempt it…" he looked at Ratbat. "Though to ensure the best likelihood of success, I should test it on a few others to make sure."

"No, the se-enator will be a fine test subject," I said.

"No!" Ratbat said, backing away further.

Shockwave commed his guards to come in and restrain the mech, even as he spoke to me. "His personality may change, and I doubt I will be able to salvage any memories on the first try."

"You can erase his memories,"

The guards came in and grabbed hold of the panicking senator, who screamed and struggled.

"Where would you like us to take him?" One of them asked.

"There is also at least a thirty-one percent chance that he will offline."

I nodded. "Understood."

Ratbat was still struggling, still protesting.

"Very well. When I have time, I will attempt to discover the answer to your question. Would you like me to return the prisoner to you afterward?"

"Yes, Thank you." I turned and left them there, then picked up Ravage on my way out of the lab.

"You gave him to the scientist?" Ravage said. "I still wanted to kill him."

"Death isn't the worst punishment," I said as I made my way back toward the main base. "And eve-eryone deserves a second chance."

* * *

The mech who approached Megatron's throne was small, and though he walked with predatorial grace, he wasn't intimidating at first glance.

But Megatron knew this mech could kill him. He doubted that even Soundwave would be able to stop him. Soundwave wasn't here at the moment anyway, which was too bad, since Megatron was very curious to know what was going on in this visitor's helm.

He met his old trainer's bright violet optics, trying to judge the mech's mood. "Welcome, Casurus," he said, "to my humble abode."

"Spare me the slag, mechling," Casurus said. "I didn't come here for pretty words and I don't need your welcome."

Impatient, but not murderous. Megatron should be straightforward in that case. "Why _did_ you come here?"

"Because I want something you can help me get, and I have information you want to hear."

Ah. "And I suppose if I refuse to help you, then…"

"I know you," Casurus said. "And I'm pretty sure you'll want to help me out. On the odd chance that you're too stubborn, I guess I could threaten you, but I'm not really in the mood to play games with a sparkling, so why don't you just shut up and let me tell you what you're going to do for me."

Megatron did not like the sudden feeling that he'd lost control of the conversation, but he sat back in his chair, trying to look confident. "Very well."

Casurus rolled his optics. "Dramatic flair will get you in trouble," he said. "It wastes so much time. In any case, I need your army. I need to get into Iacon."

"Why?"

"I need to kill some mecha. Old grudges. You'll understand some orn. But I can't get into the city without a sufficient distraction."

"Well," Megatron said. "If I had the resources to take Iacon, I might be able to help you. But they're too well defended."

"I don't need it this orn, just eventually. Make it a priority, though—my patience will only stretch so far."

"It's not a particularly valuable resource, though it would be a major blow to my enemies if I take their home city."

"That's where the information comes in," Casurus said. "They have old secrets there. Tricks, toys, weapons no one else has. Things from before the Quintesson wars, back when you had better technology. If you capture the Hall of Records and all the information there, you _will_ win this war. There will be absolutely nothing anyone can do about it."

Megatron considered that for a few astroseconds. "And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Ha," Casurus said. "Not so naïve anymore, are you? Well, how about this? Does it matter? You want to take the city anyway, and the added possibility that you'll find some powerful weapons of mass destruction—which you need because you're stupid—is just a little added incentive. Take the first opportunity. I'll be ready."

Megatron was very wary of making an alliance with this mech, but refusing would not end well for him. There was another important question, though. "Who exactly are you intending to kill?"

"That's my own business," Casurus said. "Don't worry, I'm not going to interfere in your war, and my targets are a little out of your league anyway."

"If, as you say, the Hall of Records has weapons in it, what's to stop us from infiltrating it the way we did the Council Hall? We don't need an army."

Casurus shook his helm. "You're welcome to try. Let me know if you make an attempt so I can come watch—that'll be hilarious. Look, I can get you in there, but only _with_ an army. The question is, do we have a deal?"

Megatron frowned. "I help you by taking Iacon so you can kill some enemies you refuse to name, and you help me by securing me more powerful weapons for my army."

"Exactly."

This seemed a little one-sided. "It doesn't appear that you have much to gain from the arrangement. I'm sure you, of all mecha, can sneak into Iacon on your own."

"Maybe, maybe not," Casurus said. "And what can I say, I like putting weapons into the hands of those who have the bearings to use them. Things tend to get pretty interesting for a while whenever I do that. Think it over, mechling. I'll be in touch." Casururs turned and left.

"Who the pit was that?" Blackangle said. "And how did he get past the guards?"

"Many of the guards know him from the pits of Kaon," Megatron explained. "He was a trainer." He wished again that Soundwave had been here to listen in on Casurus's thoughts. Then he would know whether the mech was being honest or trying to trick him.

Oh well. Casurus didn't seem the type to lie. Perhaps Megatron should move their plans for taking Iacon forward anyway.

He just needed a good opportunity. His mecha couldn't beat Prowl at battle strategy. The only thing that had worked in the past had been removing the Praxian, but how was he going to accomplish that this time?

He had to believe an opportunity would present itself sooner or later. After all, he had something Orion wanted. In order to become a Prime, Orion would need the key to Vector Sigma, and in order to get the key back, they'd need to send someone to Kaon to steal it.

* * *

Jazz rode the elevator up. He would have just commed in a report, but he wanted to check on a few things here.

He was a little late for the meeting, but that was all right. It was a good opportunity to make a point.

He waved to mecha as he walked through the base, and threw the doors of the meeting room open to make an entrance.

Everyone stared at him.

"Hey," he said. "What's up, mechs?"

"Jazz," Orion said. "Um… welcome back."

"Thanks," Jazz replied. "Sorry ta barge in, what are we talking about?" He sat down in his usual spot and listened while they went on discussing what they'd been talking over before.

After a few other things were cleared up, he was given the floor. They wanted to know if he'd made any headway on getting the key back.

"First off," he said. "Ya all failed the test."

They stared at him.

"Mainspring, I _told_ ya when I come back ya gotta make sure it's me. What if it wasn't? Ya all just kept talking about high clearance stuff. If I were Makeshift, I'd now have some important info I could send back ta the 'Cons."

"I'm sorry," Mainspring said, looking surprised. "I didn't think about that."

"Ya _would_ be sorry," Jazz said. "If it turned out I was the mechformer."

He got an internal comm. from Mainspring. _"Can you verify your comm?"_

" _Yep, it's me, and I'm here. Given some time and the right equipment, ya can hack that though."_

" _Last time we met, you gave me a datapad. Is this the same model?"_

He held up his datapad.

Jazz looked at it. It seemed a bit larger. He shook his helm. _"Nope. Also, yes or no questions aren't good, cuz there's a fifty-fifty chance of guessing right."_

Everyone else was watching them. "Well?" Jazz said out loud.

"I'm almost certain this is really Jazz," Mainspring said.

"Thank you," Orion said. "Jazz, is there anything to report about the Key to Vector Sigma?"

"Not much," Jazz said. "I still don't even know if Megs is keeping it with him or if he's got it stored somewhere. If he's got it stored somewhere, all we have ta do is wait until he and Soundwave leave Kaon and then get in there and take it. But if he's got it _on_ him, we'll have ta probably capture him ta get it back, meaning we'd probably have ta somehow overwhelm Soundwave _and_ Megatron, and that'll be trickier."

Orion nodded.

"So yeah, not too much progress."

"Are you sure I can't go?" Orion said. "I'm very busy and I will be for a while, but I'd be able to find where he's got the Key. I can still feel it."

"Nah," Jazz said. "Too dangerous, mech. Like I said, I'll go back there and try again. If we can find out a time where Soundwave's gone, I might maybe consider bringing ya, but only if it was absolutely necessary."

"It may become necessary," Orion said.

Jazz didn't think so, but he didn't say anything else, opting to stay for the rest of the meeting. Afterward, he stopped by his office. He needed to train his department on watching out for Makeshift, but he'd have to get them together first, and he didn't have time for that.

There was a knock at his door and he opened it to let Mainspring in.

"Hey, mech," he said.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop you in the meeting," Mainspring said. "I do normally interview mecha who come back from missions."

"I just barged in, though," Jazz said. "So ya probably didn't want ta interrupt. It's understandable, mech, but ya gotta be more careful than that. Think about it. If I was Makeshift I'd probably try ta bypass normal protocol, distract ya, and all of that. So ya gotta not let that happen."

Mainspring nodded. "How long are you going to be here?"

"Eh, probably ten more breems," Jazz said. "I sent ya a full report. Ya can get Glyph ta decrypt it for ya."

"Thank you," Mainspring said.

"And try and think up some trickier questions for next time," Jazz said.

Mainspring nodded. "All right. I'll go read that report you sent."

Jazz watched him leave, opened a desk drawer, and got out the datapad that had all of his important information stored on it. He spent several breems updating it and then—after making sure the door was locked and no one was coming—he braced himself and deleted some memories, leaving everything but the actual classified information.

His helm throbbed and he shuttered his optics for a few moments and waited for the pain to fade. He really had to find an alternative solution to that. He had some ideas about how to hide memories without deleting them, but it would require time to experiment, and a medic who was willing to break some rules.

If he was ever not so busy…

But for now, he could cope with the pain, and the potential risk of processor damage. He got up and left his office to head to Kaon again. Last time he'd stayed out in the city, but that hadn't been very productive, so he was going to have to do some riskier things this time. He wished the 'Cons hadn't moved to a new base. Jazz didn't have the blueprints for this one, and he didn't know what parts of the building Soundwave was more or less likely to be at any given time.

He'd just have to be extra careful. This was important.


	52. Preparation

Prowl requested entry at the door. It was late, but he wouldn't be surprised if Orion was still in his office.

After an astrosecond, the door opened, and Prowl stepped in. Elita was here too, which wasn't ideal because Prowl had wanted to talk to Orion alone. Oh well.

"Prowl," the Prime said. "Come in."

Elita frowned at him. "I was just trying to convince him that it was time to stop for the off-cycle. I hope you don't come bearing bad news."

The look she gave him said very clearly that if he _had_ come bringing more work for her spark-mate, he would seriously regret it.

"Unfortunately, I do have bad news," Prowl said, "Though not the kind that will require immediate action."

Orion sighed. "Very well," he leaned back in his chair. "What is it now?"

"I've run the numbers a thousand times and in a thousand ways," Prowl said. "We're not going to win a prolonged war unless something about the conflict changes on a fundamental level."

"We can't give up," Orion said. "There has to be a way."

"Wait, haven't we technically won almost every battle?" Elita said.

"Yes," Prowl said. "But with our recruitment so low… We could win _every_ single battle and still lose in the end, when Megatron's forces outnumber us to the point where it's impossible to do anything. Even if recruitment slows down for him, he's already got so many mecha on his side… We'll never catch up, and we _will_ lose in the long run."

Orion seemed to think about that. "So… what do we do?"

"If our recruitment went up—"

"I will not draft anyone into service."

"Megatron does," Prowl said. "Not to say that we should be emulating him, but perhaps if we acted a little more like an army, we wouldn't be so far behind."

"No," Elita said. "Don't you dare accuse—"

"I am _not_!" Prowl insisted. "And that's not the point."

"Do you have some sort of a solution other than drafting mecha into service?" Orion asked.

"I don't know," Prowl said. "But perhaps getting the Key back—and quickly—is even more essential than we've been thinking. If you had the Matrix, and the full title of a Prime, there is no doubt that more mecha would join the Autobots, maybe even enough that we stand a chance against the Decepticons… but if you wait too long for that…"

Orion looked down. "There are other reasons as well, that I must receive the Matrix as quickly as possible,"

"We still have to wait until his training is done," Elita said.

"How long will that take?" Prowl asked.

"I… don't know if I have time to finish my training. It might be better if I attempt to track down the Matrix as soon as I have the Key."

"But…" Elita looked alarmed. "You can't receive the Matrix without completing the trials—didn't Yoketron say it would change your personality? We need _you,_ not… whoever it will make you."

Prowl wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, but Orion continued before he could ask.

"I will be working with Maccadam on the trials, next orn, if I can make some time for it. We haven't given up on that. But we probably can't wait until I'm done with all twelve of them."

"Why not?" Prowl asked, trying not to think about why it was Maccadam who Orion would be training with now.

"More bad news, I'm afraid," Orion said, then shook his helm. "But there's been enough of that, and Elita's right that we should all get some rest. Even you, Prowl."

Prowl looked down.

"Especially you."

"I'm all right," Prowl said.

"You're a better liar than I am," Orion said gently. "But..."

Prowl shook his helm. "I like working. I'm not tired."

"You'll feel better if you rest."

"I feel perfectly fine. I'm just… worried. About all of this. I don't know if we can do it." Prowl studied the floor, not wanting to meet Orion's optics. "Neither of us… neither of us completed our training."

Silence fell for a few astroseconds.

"I miss him too," Orion said at length. "I… think he would want you to take care of yourself, though."

Prowl shook his helm. He hadn't wanted to talk about this, but… "It was my fault," he said. "I shouldn't have… I don't know. I just keep thinking about what would have been different if I hadn't brought him with me to help you in the Council Hall."

"Well… both of us would probably be offline, for one thing," Orion said. "If anything it's my fault for rushing into danger like that, forcing the two of you to come rescue me."

Prowl wasn't sure how to argue with that.

"Either way," Orion said. "The only thing we can do is move forward, and remember what he _did_ teach us."

Prowl nodded. He still wasn't sure, though. There were so many questions he wished he had asked… Yoketron had told him not to let the war win. Those had been his last, guiding words. Even if Orion _did_ get the Matrix, and recruitment _did_ go up, the two sides would just be more evenly matched, and more mecha would offline. "Orion?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever wonder if it would be better just to surrender? To let Megatron take over? Do you think fewer mecha would offline?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I," Prowl said. "There's no way to predict how many mecha Megatron will kill if we let him take over the world. I don't know..."

Was it worth it? Was it worth it to win? Was it even possible?

"We can't give up," Orion said. "We can't stand by and watch Megatron hurt everyone. I still believe he was a good mech once, but he would never have been good at ruling the world."

Prowl sighed. "You're right. But if we can't win anyway..."

"We are all troubled and overworked right now. Thank you for bringing me the information you did, but please don't put the burden of deciding what to do about the war on yourself. You have plenty to worry about as it is."

Prowl finally looked up and he could see in the young archivist's optics that the burden was on Orion already, and that he _did_ wonder if this was the right thing, and that he was tired too, and hurting. He must be just as devastated about Yoketron's death, and yet here he was, doing his best to comfort Prowl. Prowl, who was cynical and prideful and weak, who did not even deserve this mech's friendship.

"Thank you," Prowl said.

"Go and get some recharge," Orion said. "That's… that's an order, Prowl."

Prowl nodded and left, still troubled. There were so many enormous, and frighteningly difficult decisions to make... But maybe that was alright. Maybe Prowl could trust Orion to make those decisions.

He had intended to go back to his office, but went the other way, toward his room.

* * *

Orion stood outside the back door of Maccadam's oilhouse, waiting. After arguing with Ironhide and Red Alert for a while, he'd convinced them it was safe for him to come alone. They'd groundbridged him right here, and a bridge back was just one comm. away.

He wished he could go and find some of the sparklings he'd used to give energon treats to, but he didn't have time for that. He barely had time for this.

The door opened, and he stepped inside.

"Orion!" Maccadam pulled him into a tight embrace.

Orion shuttered his optics, surprised at first. But then, as he returned his old friend's embrace, all of the emotions from the past few decaorns came crashing down on him. He tried not to cry.

It didn't work.

The kindly bartender held him for a few breems in that narrow hallway. Then he let Orion go and held him at arm's length, studying him thoughtfully. "You've been through some rough scrap this quartex, haven't you? Come on, let's sit and talk about it, maybe you'll feel better."

Maccadam led him to his smallish, comfortable office, and had Orion sit down in one of the chairs across from the desk. He pulled some energon out of subspace and set it down in front of Orion.

"I should attempt the trial," Orion said. "I don't have much time."

"You think you're going to be able to complete the fifth trial right now?" Maccadam said. "Mechling, you'll have a much better chance if you're not on the brink of emotional collapse, believe me."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out. "I didn't even realize... I've been so busy lately, I haven't really had time to process anything."

"I'm sorry about Yoketron," Maccadam said. "I liked that mech."

Orion nodded.

"I'm sure he's happy in the Well of Allsparks, though. He's got a lot of mecha there, waiting for him." Maccadam smiled, then shook his helm. "I'm sure you can't stop missing him, and it's important to grieve. But I don't think he'd want you to regret what happened to him. He's not gone, not really. He's happy, and he's safe."

Orion nodded. "Thank you."

"What else?"

They talked for almost half a joor. Orion let everything out, all of his fears and anxieties and guilt. It felt so good to talk to someone who would just listen without overreacting or giving him advice or telling him to stop beating himself up about things.

By the end, Orion was feeling much better. "I think I'm ready," he said. "Though… I don't know if I have enough time for the trial."

"You do if you get it on the first shot," Maccadam said. "This one's fragging ridiculous, because Micronus is a glitch."

Orion looked up, a little shocked.

"You heard me," Maccadam said. "And I should know. He's my brother, after all. He's not so bad if you know him really well, but he doesn't have a sympathetic atom in his entire frame. It's not personal, though, so don't take anything he says or does personally. In fact, ignore him. He's part of what makes the trial distracting. You get a head start if you just walk through the wall and right into the trial without listening to his little 'you're not good enough to be a Prime' routine. Also, keep it in your processor that the trial isn't real. You're not ignoring real people, you're ignoring fake people who look like real people."

Orion stared at him. "But… doesn't that defeat the purpose of—"

"Yeah," Maccadam said. "But I checked with Alph, and he says you can cheat as much as you want, we just need to get you through these things."

Elita commed him.

"Excuse me," Orion said, "I'm getting a comm." He answered.

" _Oh, thank Primus,"_ she said. _"I hoped you weren't in the middle of the trial. I mean it didn't feel like you were, but... Orion, you need to come back here now."_

"Why? What's happened?" Orion asked.

" _Megatron's contacted us, and he's demanding to talk to you."_

Orion frowned. "Did he say about what?"

They had been somewhat worried about an attack, since the loss of the Council was stretching Orion's forces so thin. But the Decepticons had been uncannily quiet. Of course, Orion would take whatever he could get when it came to a break from the fighting, even though it probably meant Megatron was gearing up for something big.

"Elita?"

" _Just come. Now."_

He looked at Maccadam.

"Bad news?"

"I think so," Orion said. "I'm sorry…"

"You can go," Maccadam said. "We'll reschedule. My siblings and I are busy, but I can definitely make some time for this."

"Thank you," Orion said, and stood. "And thank you for listening to me. It really did help."

He left the building, then took a two-way groundbridge up to his office in Mirage's tower. From there, he made his way to the command center room. He could feel through the bond that it was bad news, and he was joined by Ironhide and Mainspring as he headed to the meeting room.

"What's going on?" Ironhide asked.

"I don't know," Orion said as he entered the room.

Elita approached him. "I wasn't sure if you would want everyone here, but I called them…"

"It's all right," Orion said. "What's going on?"

Everyone looked at her.

"So," she said. "Megatron just contacted me and let me know he wanted to talk."

"And that merits an emergency meeting, because…?" Red Alert said.

"They've got Jazz."

Silence fell.

"I think he wants to negotiate some sort of deal," Elita said.

"Pit," Ironhide growled.

"Well…" Orion said, glad he'd had that talk with Maccadam and was feeling a lot calmer than he would have felt about this a joor ago. "Let's talk to him and we'll see what we can do. Let me do the talking please."

Elita sent him an internal comm. _"If you try to trade yourself, I won't let you. None of us will let you do that."_

" _I know that's not an option,"_ Orion said. _"Please trust me."_

"All right," Elita said out loud. "I'll bring him up on the screen then."

Everyone watched as Orion took his place at the head of the table, and she pulled up a projection on the wall.

After an astrosecond of blank screen, Megatron's helm appeared, glaring down at them.

"Megatron," Orion said calmly.

" _Orion Pax."_

They stared at each other for several long moments.

" _Ya mind hurrying it up?"_ A voice from off-screen said. _"I've got places ta be."_

Megatron's scowl deepened.

"I suppose you want to negotiate," Orion said. "We would very much like him back."

" _I don't know,"_ Megatron said. _"I happen to have a quarrel with this mech for betraying me a while back, so unless you're willing to make a very good trade..."_

" _Don't do it, mech,"_ Jazz's voice called cheerfully. _"It ain't worth it. And don't bother sending anyone ta come get me, I can get out on my…"_

" _Shut him up!"_ Megatron shouted, turning to the side for a moment.

Orion took in a deep vent.

An astrosecond later, there was a clang and an angry shout and then Jazz's voice again. _"Sorry mech, did I get ya in the optic?"_

" _Hey!"_

" _No!"_

" _Stop!"_

" _What are you doing?"_ Megatron growled. _"Don't let him… catch him! Shut the door!"_

There was more shouting and Orion was pretty sure he could hear Jazz laughing in the distance before the sounds started to fade, as if he and whoever was chasing him had left the room.

" _Excuse me for a few breems,"_ Megatron said, and the screen went blank.

Silence.

Ironhide burst out laughing.

The tension in the room broke, and suddenly everyone was smiling.

"Ha!" Ironhide said. "Good luck dealing with _that,_ Megatron. I'll bet he's too ashamed to call us back after Jazz escapes."

" _If_ he escapes," Chromia said.

"Are you kidding me?" Ironhide said. "They might have Soundwave, but Jazz is _fast._ He'll get out."

"We can only wait and see," Prowl said.

Silence fell, and the tension in the room rose again as the quiet stretched out for a breem.

"Well…" Elita said at length. "False alarm, I guess. I don't know whether Megatron will be contacting us again, so you're free to go. I'll let you know if we get any messages from him. Mainspring, if Jazz escapes, he'll probably contact you, so can you let us know if he does?"

Mainspring nodded.

Elita looked to Orion.

"Yes," he said. "Go back to your work. We'll let everyone know as soon as we find out what happened."

Mecha got up and started heading for the door. Orion considered going back to Maccadam's, but he didn't want to start an attempt of the trial, in case the Decepticons captured Jazz again.

He went to his office instead, working while he waited.

Megatron didn't comm. them back.

* * *

Blaster stared out the window into the darkness of the underground street. They kept having to move again and again and again, because he was in danger, and their latest move had taken them to a lower level of the city-state.

There was a way to stop hiding. There was a way to be safe without moving all over the place. But he doubted anyone would agree to it.

He took in a deep vent and turned around, then approached the table where Keepsake, Cam, and Breeze were playing a card game. Steeljaw, sensing his nervousness, followed closely behind him.

"Hi Blaster," Keepsake said. "Do you want to join us?"

Playing games like that was kind of boring when there was no way to lose. "No," he said. "But…"

 _Is everything all right?_

 _Did he hear something outside?_

 _He's seemed a little depressed lately. I wonder if it's because he's underground. I certainly don't like the perpetual darkness._

"What is it, Sweetspark?" Keepsake asked.

Blaster sighed. "I want… I don't want to stay here anymore, in Praxus, and hide, and move all the time."

 _Poor mechling. I hate it too._ "I'm so sorry," Keepsake said. "I know you understand that it's hard for all of us."

"But we don't have to keep doing it," Blaster said.

They stared at him, questioning.

He knew how badly this was going to go, but he just had to say it. "I want to join the Autobots."

Silence.

The way Blaster had said that reminded both Keepsake and Breeze of Searchlight, and they were sad.

Cam was angry and scared. "Absolutely not," he said.

"I know they're not bad," Blaster said. "The mechs they have watching us are good. I've listened to them. All of them are nice, and they just want me to be safe. It was the Decepticons who destroyed Vos. It's _always_ them who attack first."

"It doesn't matter," Cam said. "The fact that the Decepticons are bad does not make the Autobots good."

"You don't believe me," Blaster said. "But I know. I _hear_ them."

"Then why is Soundwave a Decepticon?" Cam asked.

Blaster looked at Breeze, who shook her helm. "I think," Blaster said. "I think he must be angry still—about what happened to Searchlight. He wants the government to pay. And maybe he can't leave, maybe he doesn't want to, maybe he's different than he used to be. I don't know, I just know the Autobots are good, and I can help them. I want to help them."

"No," Cam said. "That fake Prime is a crafty, conniving liar. And even if he wasn't you are still a fledgling. You absolutely _will not_ be joining an army."

Blaster looked at Cam. He could keep arguing, but it wasn't going to change his guardian's perspective. "It's what I want to do," he said instead. "It's the right thing to do."

"No," Cam insisted. "It's a noble sentiment, but very misguided. We are staying here, do you understand?"

Blaster nodded, trying to look defeated.

 _You know he's just worried about you,_ Keepsake thought. _We just want you to be safe. War is a terrible thing and even if they start out good, mecha can be corrupted by it._

Blaster smiled at her to let her know he understood. They did care about him and they did want the best for him.

But they were the ones who didn't understand.

When he was younger, he'd lived in an orphanage and on the streets. He'd done a lot of hiding. Hiding only worked for so long.

And if Cam had known Orion back then, back when he'd just been that librarian who knew everyone's designation, and gave them energon treats and cared about them when no one else cared, he wouldn't say those things about him.

* * *

Mainspring got a comm from Jazz. He answered immediately, leaning back in his chair and venting a sigh of relief. "There you are. Are you all right?"

" _Yep,"_ Jazz said over the comm. _"Sorry it took me a while ta comm. I_ _figured they'd think I'd leave Kaon right away, so I decided ta stick around for a couple joors. And I found some stuff out."_

"You couldn't have contacted me earlier? We've been worried about you."

" _I don't have my datapad anymore, and I didn't want to risk a comm. being picked up. But I'm comin' home now."_

"Good," Mainspring said. "So… you say you discovered something?"

" _I don't want ta talk about it too much over the comm, but we may have an opportunity in about half a decaorn ta get that key back."_

"You should come back and report," Mainspring said. "If they catch you again…"

" _Yeah, that's a good point, mech. But I gotta figure out just a few more things first. I'll be back in an orn or two."_

"Good," Mainspring said. "We'll see you then. Be careful, please. I don't want to run both halves of the department."

" _Eh, ya got 'Raj."_

That was true, but Mirage didn't have anywhere near as much experience as Jazz did.

" _See ya, mech."_ Jazz said, and cut the comm.

Mainspring commed Orion to give him the news.

* * *

They were once again in a meeting when Jazz burst in, slamming the door open. Everyone else fell silent.

"Hey," he said. "Miss me?"

"Jazz," Orion said. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," Jazz said as Mainspring moved over to give him a spot at the table.

Orion watched them for a moment—he was pretty sure they were communicating over an internal comm.

"So," he said at length. "My apologies. Red Alert, you may continue."

Red Alert finished presenting the latest evacuation plans and plans for the new base. The construction had continued, even though the city had been in a bit of an uproar, and they were about halfway done.

When Red Alert was finished, he sat down and glanced suspiciously around the room, gaze eventually landing on Jazz.

"Jazz," Orion said. "Do you have anything to report? Were you able to find out any more about where Megatron's keeping the key?"

"Yes," Jazz said. "Actually. And we can get it back if we do it right."

Orion was surprised. He had honestly been expecting more bad news.

Jazz leaned forward slightly. "So, I found out Megatron doesn't keep that key on him all the time. I don't know where he keeps it, but it's somewhere in his new base, which I only know part of the layout for. The thing that makes this possible though, is that I found out Megatron and Soundwave are going to be gone. Four orns from now, they're planning on going somewhere and provided they don't take the key with them, all we have ta do is break in there, get it, and get out before they come back. Now, we could send 'Raj in, but he'd have ta find that key pretty quick…"

"I can find it," Orion said. "Let me come with you."

Jazz frowned.

"Jazz, I can feel the key. I can find it. If you let me come, then I'll be able to help. If you don't, then we risk wasting this chance. We _need_ that key back."

"We have to weigh our options," Prowl said. "The opportunity to get the key back is important, but the risk of sending you…"

"The base is pretty well-guarded," Jazz said. "And it's hard ta get in, even if ya're sneaky. If we do bring you, we need a solid plan. Something foolproof. We probably want ta bring some other mecha with us too, cuz if we can't be stealthy, then we gotta have ways ta make sure we can get ya out, Optimus."

Silence fell.

"If we want," Prowl said. "We could launch a small assault on their base. If we do it right—block their communications, plan a method of retreat, bring the right mecha—this is possible… but only if you're willing to go forward with it, Orion. I know you never liked the idea of being the first one to attack."

Orion looked down. This was different, though. They had to get that key back. "Let's talk through the basics of a potential plan," Orion said. "I don't want to let this opportunity pass by."

* * *

Prowl caught up to Jazz just outside the other mech's office door. "Jazz."

Jazz looked up. "Oh, hey," he said. "Ya need something, Prowl?"

"I just…" that breem when the Decepticons had had this mech captured and Prowl had realized that he wouldn't have an _opportunity_ to apologize for the Tagan Heights/Slaughter City battle… that had not been a good breem. "I'm sorry for what I asked of you in the last battle and how badly it went for your unit."

Jazz looked surprised. "Uh… don't worry about it, mech," he said cheerfully. "It's in the past." He tilted his helm to the side slightly, then typed in the code to open his door and went in, leaving Prowl standing in the hallway, feeling even worse about it. Jazz hadn't seemed upset, but he hadn't exactly accepted Prowl's apology either, and Prowl knew the experience had bothered the mech.

Oh well. At least Jazz knew he felt bad about it.

He walked away, toward his own office, putting the conversation he'd just had out of his processor. He had a battle to plan for, and this time he was going to be on the offensive. This time, he got to make the first move.

In four orns, they were going to get that key back, and there was nothing the Decepticons could do to stop them.

* * *

Megatron tapped his clawed fingers on the arm of his chair, thinking. Things were coming together. In four orns, he could have everything he needed to win the war for good.

Any number of things could go wrong, though. The Autobots could uncover his plan, Blackangle could make his move early… all Megatron could do was wait and see.

And if that idiot seeker didn't show up in the next two breems…

The door opened and Starscream came in. He approached the throne and bowed with a flourish. "You wanted to see me, my liege?"

"Yes," Megatron said. "Stop groveling."

The mech stood straight, looking offended.

"I have a task for you." Megatron leaned forward in his chair. "If you're feeling up to it."

"Anything for you, Lord Megatron," Starscream bowed again.

Megatron held himself back from rolling his optics. He needed Starscream to think he was taking this seriously. "It has come to my knowledge that Blackangle doesn't have our best interests at spark. In fact, he's planning a coup."

Starscream looked surprised for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm shocked it took you so long to realize—"

"So," Megatron cut him off. "I'm going to set up a trap for him, and I want you to help me. Successfully stopping him will, of course, mean you take his place at my right hand."

The seeker's wings perked up. "I… I would be _honored,_ my liege."

"As you know from our last meeting," Megatron said. "Soundwave, Straxus, and I are going to lead an assault on Iacon in four orns. That means I'll be leaving Blackangle in charge. It will be a perfect time for him to make his move. We'll leave behind anyone we think might not be loyal, as well as a group of seekers for you to command. If you successfully apprehend or offline the traitors, I'll put you in charge. Otherwise, you'll be demoted, and one of my other lower-ranking advisors will have _your_ place"

Starscream frowned. "Why not just arrest them now?"

"Because I want proof that Blackangle's working against me. I want to make an example of him and his friends." He paused to meet Starscream's optics. "I want to show anyone _else_ who might try to stab me in the back that treachery comes with severe consequences."

The seeker hunched his shoulders, looking suddenly uncertain and guilty.

"So," Megatron said. "Can you do it?"

Starscream seemed to recover from his momentary nervousness. "I can," He said, lip plates curling upward. "You won't be disappointed."

"I had better not be," Megatron said. "You may go. Make preparations. And make _sure_ Blackangle doesn't find out that I know _his_ plan."

"Of course, Lord Megatron," Starscream said with a bow, and then turned to leave the room.

"One more thing," Megatron said.

The seeker stopped. "Yes?"

"You were at the meeting. As far as Blackangle knows, I'm entrusting him with an important task for that orn as well. I expect you to ensure it gets done, regardless of what else happens. Understood?"

Starscream grinned. "It would be my pleasure," he said, then left the room.


	53. Priorities

Prowl looked up from his notes when the Elite Guardsmech entered the room.

"Captain Bulwark," Orion said, bowing solemnly. "We are glad you could come."

Ultra Magnus glared intensely at the mech. Honestly, Prowl was upset with the Elite Guard as well. If they had been doing their job, Yoketron might still be here.

"I'm honored you invited me," Bulwark said as he approached the meeting table. "Have you… decided to accept my mecha into your ranks?"

Orion frowned.

Ultra Magnus spoke. "We have difficulty trusting you, after you abandoned your posts."

Captain Bulwark sighed. "We didn't exactly abandon our posts," he said. "We evacuated almost everyone from the building."

"Your oath was to protect the Iacon Council, above all else," Ultra Magnus replied sternly. "And you betrayed that oath—not to mention the Prime's orders to continue to protect the Council. Swearing loyalty to the Prime means nothing if you do not take your promises seriously.

Bulwark shook his helm. "We want to help," he said. "If nothing else, we can train your soldiers. Primus knows, they need it. Besides, you don't seem to have a problem trusting Ironhide, and _he_ broke his oaths."

Ultra Magnus started to speak, but Ironhide cut him off.

"Look," he said. "The issue here isn't that you betrayed the Council. The issue is _how._ "

Ultra Magnus shot him a disapproving look, but he kept talking.

"I broke my oaths back when doing so could have gotten me offlined," Ironhide said. "I left because I was willing to take risks in order to protect what I believed in. You all stayed until it was no longer convenient, and then you abandoned some of your own mecha to be slaughtered along with the Council, because you didn't want to risk your lives for them."

"That's not true!" Bulwark said. "There was nothing we could do. By the time we got the doors open, the guards in there were long offline."

"It doesn't matter," Orion said.

"But—"

"Stop."

The room fell silent.

"I apologize, Captain Bulwark," Orion said. "We did not bring you here to make accusations against you. We have… an opportunity for your mecha to prove their loyalty."

Prowl looked back down at his notes.

He still didn't like this. It felt too rushed.

"What do you mean?" Bulwark asked.

"When Megatron attacked the Council, he stole a very important artifact. Without it, I will not be able to locate the Matrix of Leadership."

"You… want us to get it back somehow?" Bulwark asked.

"We have an opportunity," Orion said. "I can sense the object's location since it has been stolen, and we know Megatron and Soundwave will leave Kaon next orn, which will allow us to infiltrate their base and retrieve it."

"You… Prime, Sir, respectfully speaking, but I don't think—"

"I have to go," Orion insisted. "I have the best chance of locating it. Jazz says he found a secret way into the base, and I will be taking him and Ironhide with me."

"But we need back-up," Ironhide said. "And, while I don't like putting Orion's life in your hands, I _do_ think the Elite Guard are better qualified than anyone else I know. It will give you an opportunity to prove you're willing to put your sparks on the line for this cause, and to make up for your betrayal by helping us take back what Megatron stole."

Bulwark looked down.

"Of course," Orion said. "I will not force you to do this. In fact, we may be able to consider accepting you into our ranks without sending you into this much danger."

"I'll do it," Bulwark said. "I'll have to talk to the others, but I'm sure those of us who want to be Autobots will all agree to come as well."

"Thank you," Orion said.

Captain Bulwark bowed.

"You may go," Orion said. "Once you have discussed things with the other members of the Elite Guard, let me know and I will send you details about the mission."

"Thank you," Captain Bulwark said, and turned to leave the room.

Once he was gone, Prowl set his datapad down in front of him. "I still don't like this," he said. "I don't know if it's going to work, and if it doesn't…"

"I trust your plan," Orion said.

"I know, but I don't trust it," Prowl said. "It's too risky. If something goes wrong, you could be trapped there. We can't lose you, Ironhide, _and_ Jazz, and still function as an army."

"Well, I'm not staying behind," Ironhide said.

"I kinda have ta go," Jazz added. "Look, we need this ta work. That's why we're pulling out all the stops. We got one shot and we're gonna take it."

"I agree with Prowl," Red Alert said. "It's far too risky."

"But we need the key back," Orion said.

"Hey," Jazz tilted his helm to the side. "I got an idea, actually."

They all looked at him.

"Why don't ya come?"

"Who, me?" Prowl said, shocked. "I can't—"

"Not onta the base," Jazz said. "Just ta Kaon. Ya could stay out in the city and walk us through it. We can't risk communicating all the way from Iacon, but short-distance comms are a little less risky. And then if something goes wrong, ya could help us improvise and get us outta there."

"That makes it worse!" Red Alert said. "Prowl needs to stay here in case there's an attack somewhere!"

"It'll only be a joor, at the most," Jazz said. "He won't be gone long enough for anything ta happen, and if something _does,_ ya can just bridge him back, since he won't be on the actual base."

That… actually made sense.

"All right," Prowl said. "Let's do it that way."

* * *

"Hey!" Thundercracker jogged to catch up with Starscream in the hall.

Starscream glared at him. "Is that how you should be addressing Megatron's soon-to-be chief advisor?"

"Very funny," Thundercracker said. "Where have you been? Warp and I haven't seen you for—"

"I'm busy," Starscream cut him off. "There's a lot to do, between seeker negotiations and planning the attack on Iacon, you know."

Thundercracker grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop. "And this?" He held Starscream's hand up in front of his brother's faceplate. His claws were covered in energon.

Starscream smirked. "I had to pay someone back for insulting me the other orn."

Thundercracker shook his helm. "Please tell me you didn't kill anyone."

"I don't think he's dead—not yet at least. Megatron wouldn't be very happy if he offlined before we've defeated the Autobots. We might still need him."

Thundercracker felt sick as it clicked in his processor. "You were torturing that prisoner."

"Interrogating," Starscream said.

"You can't fix it by making it sound more sophisticated. What is _wrong_ with you?"

Starscream yanked his hand from Thundercracker's grip. "How dare you—"

"Stop! Just drop the act and talk to me for two breems, Starscream. Please."

The other seeker crossed his arms, scowling, wings twitching. "Fine. I wish you would stop complaining about every little thing, but _fine,_ what do you want?"

"This isn't like you," Thundercracker said. "Hurting mecha and betraying Vos, and… and I know you want to rule the world, but is this really how you get there? Come on, think about it, I know how smart you are. You don't have to hurt anyone to prove yourself. There are better ways. Better ways than begging for favor from Megatron, better ways than bullying your way to the top."

"I am _not_ a bully."

"You don't _have_ to be."

Starscream rolled is optics. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Why should _you_ lecture me? You've never aspired to anything in your entire life. You just follow other mecha around, pleading for their attention, hoping that some orn someone will actually _care_ about you."

Thundercracker clenched his fists. "Excuse me?"

"Look," Starscream sneered. " _I'm_ going places, and you can tag along pathetically if you want. But don't. Get. In. My. Way."

Thundercracker met his gaze evenly. "Fine."

Starscream shook out his wings and walked away, leaving Thundercracker in the hallway.

Thundercracker shook his helm. "That was your last chance, Screamer," he muttered, and left the building. He transformed and flew up to one of the highest floors, where he, Starscream, and Skywarp shared a room.

Skywarp was there, playing some sort of game on a datapad when Thundercracker came in the window and transformed back to root mode.

"Hey," he said. "Let's go."

Skywarp didn't look up from his game. "Go where?"

"Starscream has completely lost it. We're leaving the Decepticons. Come on."

Skywarp yawned and set the datapad to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you really going to be difficult about this? Come on, I know you don't want to be here any more than I do."

Skywarp sat up straight, frowning at him. "Oh yeah?"

Thundercracker grabbed a cube of energon off the desk and subspaced it. "Yes."

"You're wrong."

He stopped.

"You and Starscream _both_ think that I'll just do whatever you want me to. But you're wrong. And you're stupid for wanting to leave. Where exactly do you suggest we go? Vos is here now, and I'm staying here with it. I like it here."

"What do you mean you like it here? We literally destroyed our home, and Megatron wants to destroy the rest of the world too."

"So what?" Skywarp said. "Home is wherever you happen to live. Besides, if Megatron's going to destroy the world, isn't it better to be on his side than out there? We get free energon here, and we get to travel all over the place, and blow stuff up and oh, _Starscream_ leaves me alone because he's too busy trying to claw his way to the top to pick on me."

Thundercracker shook his helm. "He's getting worse."

"He's always been crazy," Skywarp said. "He's always been like this. And I don't know why you're always so shocked and upset about it."

"But—"

"Bottom line is," Skywarp said. "If you don't want to stay here, I won't try to stop you from leaving, but you'll be leaving alone."

"No!" Thundercracker slammed his fists onto the desk. "You have to listen to me!"

"Calm down, mech," Skywarp said. "Just calm down."

Thundercracker glared at him, then leaped out the window and flew up into the sky. He probably _should_ calm down and think things through. Part of him just wanted to fly off—to leave the Decepticons for good, maybe even go back to the Autobots.

But he had a feeling Starscream would come after him. He knew too much—they wouldn't want him selling information to the Autobots or anything like that.

So if he was going to leave, he had to wait for a good time when everyone else would be distracted.

* * *

Orion was almost ready. There was nothing else he absolutely needed to do before he left, and Mainspring and Red Alert could handle everything while he was gone. He was surprisingly nervous about going to Kaon, but this was something he had to do. He needed that key.

Someone stepped into the open doorway of his office, and he looked up. "Elita! Come in."

She was feeling nervous too—in fact, some of his anxiety was probably coming from her. This would be good. He was glad she'd come to see him, so he could reassure her, and himself, that everything would be fine.

"I need to talk to you," she said as she sat down.

"All right," he said, suddenly a little more concerned. "Is… something wrong?"

She took in a deep vent. "I don't think you should go to Kaon."

Silence fell. Orion wasn't entirely sure what to say. He had expected her to express worry about the mission, but her suggesting he _shouldn't_ go was a surprise. "Why not?"

"It's too dangerous." She looked up at him.

"I know it's dangerous, that's why Ironhide and Jazz—"

"I don't think they should go either. I don't think any of you should go. I can tell Prowl doesn't like your plan, and that's a bad sign. Besides, you're not trained for this sort of thing."

"But Jazz is," Orion said. "And he seems confident it will work."

"Yeah," Elita leaned forward over the desk. "And he also thought periodically deleting his memories was a good idea. Remember that?"

"Elita, I know you're worried," Orion reached out to take her hand. "You can probably tell I'm nervous too, but it's going to be fine. We'll be back in less than a joor with the key."

"Not if something goes wrong," Elita said. "We could lose all four of you. That doesn't seem like a risk we should be taking. Think about it—is it really worth it?"

Orion looked down. She _did_ have a point, but… "We can't let Megatron keep the Key to Vector Sigma," he said. "And we may not have another good opportunity to take it back from him."

Elita shook her helm, pulling her hand away from him. "But you don't even need it yet, right?"

Orion stared at her, and she returned his gaze then looked away, feeling almost… guilty?

"I mean…" she said. "Aren't there more important things to work on right now? Like keeping the city-state stable and figuring out that problem with the Core and working on recruitment and our relationships with the other city-states?"

Something wasn't quite right with her arguments. And why was she coming to him now, instead of bringing it up before? "Yes, those things are important, but I won't be gone long. We have to get the key back as soon as possible or Megatron might destroy it. That's not a risk we can take."

"Risking you and Ironhide and Jazz and Prowl all at the same time isn't a risk we can take," Elita countered. "Not right now—not when we need you here."

"Then what would you have me do?" Orion asked. "I'm about to leave on this mission, should I call it off and waste this opportunity? I can't let them go without me—they need me with them too. _Everyone_ needs me, but I can't be everywhere at once. I can't do everything."

Elita huffed a sigh, frustrated now. "I don't know how many times I've said it, you don't _have_ to do everything. I just want you to stop and think before you rush headlong into something dangerous like this."

"Then why didn't you bring this up earlier?" Orion said.

She looked away again.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Orion asked. "Some other reason you don't want me to go?"

"I…" Elita trailed off, then took in a deep vent. "You're so anxious to get this key back. It makes me wonder if you're going to go looking for the Matrix before you're ready."

Silence fell.

"Are you?"

"I… I don't have time." He said. "I don't have time to finish preparing."

She stared at him, and her horror mixed with his fear.

"Alpha Trion said if the Core goes dark I may not be able to receive the Matrix at all. I can't risk that."

"But you can't—"

"You think I want to do this?" Orion said, suddenly frustrated. He was getting a little tired of everyone coming in and telling him what he could or couldn't do. "I'm just as upset about it as you are, but—"

"May not or will not?" Elita demanded.

"What?"

"Alpha Trion said you _may_ not be able to receive the Matrix or—"

"May not," Orion confirmed. "But—"

"And you don't know when the Core's going to go dark or even _if_ it will, because you haven't even gone to _try_ to talk to Primus."

"Elita…"

"That's a lot of maybes and ifs to throw your life away for—"

"Elita, I'm not—"

"—and were you even going to _tell_ me? Or were you just going to disappear some orn to go looking for it?"

"Of course I was going to—"

"—I mean, I don't even understand why it's so important to find the Matrix in the first place! You can lead the army just fine without it!"

"No I—"

"You don't need some relic or—or gift to make you good enough—"

"Stop!"

Her optics widened and silence fell.

"You think I shouldn't get the Matrix of Leadership?"

She crossed her arms. "Well…"

"You think I shouldn't go looking for it at all."

"That's not what I said!"

"I can't do this, Elita! I… I have to run a city state and an army, and the Council is gone and Alpha Trion barely talks to me, and Yoketron is dead! I am out of time. I need the Matrix, and I need it as soon as possible."

Elita shook her helm. "But—"

"You don't understand!"

Her expression hardened.

"Maybe it would be nice for _you_ if we missed this opportunity to get the Key back and then never had another one. But all you do in this army is answer comms. _You_ don't have to bear the weight of the _whole world_ on your shoulders!"

The echoes of his shouting faded.

He could feel he'd gone too far.

Elita pushed her chair away from his desk and got up. "Fine," she said, and turned to storm out of the room.

"Wait!" Orion got up. "Elita, wait…"

She stopped in the doorway and turned to glare at him.

"I have to—"

"No," she said. "You shouldn't go to Kaon to get that Key. Just let Jazz do it. If he got as much information during his last attempt as he says he did, I'm sure he can steal it by himself."

"But he was almost captured last time!"

"So instead of risking his life again, this time you're going to risk his life _and_ Ironhide's life, _and_ Prowl's life, _and_ the lives of the Elite Guard, not to mention your own."

"I—"

"But I guess I can't make any sort of argument," Elita continued. "Because obviously, all I care about is preventing you from fulfilling your _destiny_. Have fun stealing back that key, Optimus Prime."

She turned away again. This time, Orion let her go.

As he listened to her retreating pedesteps, his anger faded.

Primus, what had he said?

He shouldn't have…

He should go after her and apologize.

But…

He had to find the Matrix. Yoketron had said it would make him stronger. He knew Elita didn't want him to change or lose his memories, but he _needed_ the strength the Matrix would give him. She'd said that was all right, hadn't she, when the Allspark had healed their bond?

What if she'd changed her mind?

If she asked him to back out—if she begged him not to go through with it… would he be able to deny her wish?

He shuttered his optics and leaned on his desk, not sure what to do. She was still so angry—well, she had a right to be. He had yelled at her—told her she didn't understand, as if all of this wasn't hard for her too. After all she'd been through for him…

Prowl commed him, and he answered.

" _Orion? It's time to go."_

He hesitated. But… he had to do this.

It would be fine. They'd get the key back, and then they could figure out what to do about the Matrix.

"I'm coming." He left his office, then met Prowl and Ironhide at the elevator.

They rode down together.

"You ready?" Ironhide asked.

Orion nodded passively. He could still feel how angry Elita was, but when he tried to send her an apology, something about the bond dimmed as if she were distancing herself from him. He knew it was possible to block a bond, at least somewhat, though he'd never experienced it before.

"What?" Ironhide said.

Orion sighed. "Elita doesn't think I should go on this mission."

Ironhide shook his helm. "Femmes. I can tell Chromia doesn't like it either, though she didn't say anything. They're just worried, that's normal."

"Right," Orion said, then looked over at Prowl. "This is going to work, right?"

"Yes," Prowl said "If everything goes according to plan, then yes. If it doesn't, then we'll still probably be able to get the key, and if things go _very_ badly, then it _should_ still be possible to get out alive. The biggest thing it hinges on is whether the information Jazz brought back is correct, and he's never been wrong before, so we should be fine."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. "Good."

"We would have even better odds if we had some help from Alpha Trion's friends," Prowl said. "Why did they say they couldn't come?"

"I don't know," Orion said. "They just said something came up. They also said they might be putting us in more danger if they went to Kaon for some reason."

Prowl frowned. "All right. Whatever that means."

They reached the bottom of the elevator and Orion followed Ironhide out to the front of Mirage's tower, where a familiar transport was waiting.

"Landquake!" Orion said, as he stepped inside. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Prime, Sir," Landquake replied.

"How have you been since…" Orion hadn't spoken to him since Yoketron's death.

"All right," Landquake said. "Busy. Chromia officially hired me as a transport for the Autobots, so I've had a lot to do. How have you all been?"

"Busy as well," Orion said. "I think I can say that for all of us."

Prowl and Ironhide nodded, and a mildly uncomfortable silence fell. Orion was sure they were all thinking about Yoketron all the way to the groundbridge station, where Landquake stopped to let them out.

"Take care," the transport said, and drove away.

The Autobot groundbridge station, like many of the other buildings they used, had once been a warehouse. Red Alert had had the walls and ceiling reinforced, and put various security measures in place, but it still looked old and derelict, and didn't match the twelve high-tech groundbridges spaced evenly throughout it.

Orion, Prowl, and Ironhide walked over to where Jazz was standing with the members of the Elite Guard. Mainspring was there as well, carrying a small box.

"Here," he said, holding it out to the newcomers. "Clip these trackers somewhere on your frame, and you'll be able to find each other if you get separated."

Orion took one of the small metal devices from the box and clipped it onto his shoulder.

"We ready ta go?" Jazz asked.

Orion glanced around at the gathered mecha, and nodded.

"Right," Jazz said, and went to activate one of the groundbridges.

"While we're here," Prowl said, "Let's go over the plan once more. We will be groundbridging to a small, underground cavern about four klicks from the Decepticon base. I'll remain there while the rest of you…"

Orion's mind wandered as Prowl continued to explain the plan. He wanted to apologize to Elita for that argument. He wanted to at least _talk_ to her before he left.

He tried comming her on an internal frequency and waited for her to answer.

"…Once the groundbridge is shut, we will only communicate with Iacon in the case of an emergency. Comms probably won't work well from that deep anyway…"

She still wasn't answering. If she was really worried about his safety, she probably wouldn't be ignoring him like this.

Orion stopped trying to comm. her.

"…Megatron and Soundwave are gone, so getting in without detection will be possible. Orion will lead you to where they're keeping the Key to Vector Sigma. You may have to eliminate some guards, but try not to let anyone sound the alarm. I'll have access to all of your locations via the trackers Mainspring gave you, so no matter what happens, I should be able to direct you to safety."

Orion sent Elita a message over the comm. Just a short apology for getting angry at her. She responded after a few astroseconds.

 _[Be careful. I love you]_

Orion let out a silent sigh of relief, glad she wasn't completely ignoring him. He'd have to go find her and apologize properly when he got back.

Prowl finished going over the plan, and then everyone turned to look at Orion.

"Okay, boss," Jazz said. "Shall we?"

Orion nodded. "Let's go."

Jazz activated the groundbridge, and walked through. Ironhide and Orion followed, and then got out of the way as the others filed through. When everyone had made it into the small cavern, the groundbridge closed, leaving them in darkness.

"Can ya feel the key?" Jazz asked.

Orion _could_ sense it—almost directly above them. "I can. I can tell what direction it is too."

"Great," Jazz said. "Then this should work. Ya all ready?"

Orion took in a deep vent. He almost couldn't believe he was actually doing this—breaking into the Decepticon base to steal something from Megatron.

He met the optics of a few members of the Elite Guard. He didn't like that they were just here to keep him safe—that they might be expected to die in order to get him out of here.

But he knew Ironhide and Red Alert wouldn't have let him come without the extra guards.

"Hold on," Prowl said, frowning. "Are you sure this is the right location?"

Silence fell.

"Yeah," Jazz said. "Why?"

"And… what's that sound?"

"Doorwings," Jazz muttered. "Right."

"What?" Ironhide said.

Then the cavern echoed with the sudden sound of heavy pedesteps.

They weren't alone.

Orion tried to process what was happening as the Elite Guardsmechs made a circle around him and the other commanding officers. and lights flashed in the entrances to the cavern, illuminating it.

There were only two ways into the cavern, he realized. It was an easy place for an ambush.

"Well, that was fast," Ironhide spoke calmly, but with a hard edge to his voice. "I'm comming for a bridge out of here."

Orion nodded, spark pulsing quickly.

Decepticon soldiers started filing into the room, carrying lights and guns, and the Elite Guards raised their weapons and tightened their circle.

"Hold your fire," Orion commanded, flinching as someone shone a bright light in his optics. If someone started shooting, mecha might offline.

"I can't get through," Ironhide growled. "There's some sort of block."

Orion's spark sank, and he put a hand up to ward off the light as he looked to the side. "Jazz?"

Jazz transformed one hand into a gun and smiled. "Don't worry, mech," he said. "This is part of the plan."

Then he stepped behind Orion and shoved the barrel of the cannon hard into his back. "All right, Autobots!" he said. "Lower your weapons, or the Prime gets it!"

* * *

Notes:

1\. Happy New Year! Have a cliffhanger. :)

2\. Thanks for reading and reviewing and all that!


	54. Improvising

Elita was pulled from her thoughts when Chromia commed her. She answered quickly.

"Hey—"

" _Ellie, is Orion upset about anything?"_

Elita frowned. "Huh?"

" _Ironhide is, and it's a bit worrying. Didn't they just leave for their mission? Is Orion all right?"_

Elita's spark sank, and she stopped blocking her bond with Orion. Fear hit her like a mass transit, overwhelming her for a moment.

Danger. He was in danger. "He's afraid… tell Mainspring to bridge them out of there! Now!"

" _Already on it,"_ Chromia said.

Elita took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, trying to stay calm. She had been worried, but she hadn't actually thought…

That had been so fast. There was no way for things to go wrong that quickly… unless the whole mission had been a trap.

She got up from her desk and walked toward the door, waiting anxiously for Chromia to get back to her.

She had just reached the main room when her sister commed her again.

" _We can't bring them back. There's a groundbridge shield at the coordinates they just bridged to,"_ Chromia said. _"And it's the wrong coordinates."_

"What?" Elita stopped. The other mecha in the room stared at her.

A trap. It must have been a trap.

" _We could try sending mecha somewhere nearby and then go look for them, but—"_

The alarms in the tower went off.

" _Aw, pit,"_ Chromia said, and cut the comm.

Elita shuttered her optics. She knew what that alarm meant. If this was a trap, of _course_ Megatron would use the fact that Orion and Prowl were gone to attack somewhere. Frag it, she had _warned_ them!

Was this how it felt to be Red Alert?

Red Alert.

She commed him. _"What's going on?"_ she demanded. _"Where are the Decepticons attacking?"_

" _We're all going to die!"_ Red Alert replied. _"I_ knew _something like this would happen! I_ knew _it!"_

" _What?"_

" _It was a trap, wasn't it? We can't bring Prowl back here in time can we? They'll kill us all!"_

" _Red Alert,"_ she repeated, feeling suddenly cold. _"Where are the Decepticons?"_

" _They're here,"_ Red Alert said. _"they're here, attacking_ us _and we have nowhere to retreat to."_

Ultra Magnus burst into the room. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Megatron is attacking Iacon," Elita said, momentarily relieved. She'd forgotten he was here. She'd been worried Red Alert would have to lead the battle again.

"What?" Ultra Magnus said. "We must bring Prowl back here."

"We can't," Elita said. "It was a trap or something, we can't bring them back."

Ultra Magnus stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Where is Red Alert? He's the highest ranking commander here."

Elita shook her helm. "I don't think it's a good idea for him to be in charge right now."

"It doesn't matter what you _think,_ " Ultra Magnus snapped at her. _"_ We have to defer to him to keep order through this crisis. If Megatron is really attacking Iacon, then we don't have time to question the chain of command."

Elita glared at him. She was _not_ in the mood to be talked down to or dismissed. Maybe he wouldn't be much help after all.

But he was right—there was no time to argue. She could hear something faintly, over the blaring alarms.

Something that sounded like approaching jet engines.

She spoke over her still-open comm. with Red Alert. _"Red, I need you to stop hiding in your office and evacuate this building."_

" _What?"_ Red Alert said.

" _We can bridge everyone out, right? We don't need the bridges for anything else right now."_

" _I can't,"_ Red Alert said. _"I can't lead another battle, I can't do it again."_

" _Fine. Then defer command of the battle to me and just worry about getting us out of the tower!_ Now! _"_

There was a deep boom and the floor shook under Elita's pedes.

Then, the security chief's voice came over the P.A. and Elita got an invitation to a group comm with Mainspring, Ultra Magnus, Chromia, and Prowl's second in command.

"We're opening groundbridges in the center of each occupied room!" Red Alert's voice said. "Please make your way to the walls to make space for the groundbridges! Repeat, we're opening groundbridges in the center of each occupied room…"

Elita took in a deep vent and joined the group comm.

* * *

Prowl stared.

Some of the Elite Guard turned to point their guns at Jazz, but he seemed relatively unconcerned. "I got my finger on the trigger, so ya better not startle me. Put your weapons down."

The decepticons had finished filing into the cavern. They outnumbered the Elite Guard by about two to one.

"Jazz…" Orion said, sounding horrified. "What are you…"

"Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon," Jazz said. "Ya really thought all that time that I was on your side? Tell them ta lower their weapons, or ya'll have a smoking hole where your spark chamber was."

Orion looked down and was silent for a moment. "You should let the others go," he said. "They—"

"Ya got five astroseconds," Jazz said.

Ironhide was the one who gave the order. "Put your weapons down. Now!"

Prowl took in a deep vent and let it out slowly as the members of the Elite Guard dropped their weapons on the ground. He ran his battle computer, trying to think of a way out of this, until a Decepticon came and put stasis-cuffs on him. He winced as his mod shut down automatically.

Orion and Ironhide were also put in stasis cuffs.

"All right," Jazz said. "Now you three are comin' with me, and the Guard stay behind. I need six mecha ta help me bring these ta the boss, and the rest of ya stay here and clean up all this scrap." He waved his free hand at the Elite Guardsmecha.

"No!" Orion said. "Let them go, please. I'll come quietly—"

"Shut up!" Jazz said. "And let's move. I ain't got time ta negotiate."

"Come on, Orion," Ironhide said.

They walked toward the doorway, flanked by six Decepticon guards.

"One of these three makes any kinda move, shoot 'em," Jazz said. "Megatron don't care whether they're online or not."

Primus, this was bad.

They were marched out into the dark hallway, with the traitor taking up the rear. Prowl could hear the barrel of Jazz's gun clicking against Orion's plating as he urged them forward, around a corner, and up a flight of stairs.

He could also hear weapons fire and screaming from the room they'd left.

He tried not to think about that.

This was it, he realized as they reached the top of the stairs. They were going to lose this war. Not because Megatron had a bigger army or more powerful soldiers, but because Prowl was an incompetent idiot.

How had he let this happen?

Why had he let them close the groundbridge when he'd known immediately they were in the wrong location—far too close to the Decepticon base?

Why had he agreed to this stupid, risky plan in the first place? It hadn't made sense. He'd known Jazz to pull off impossible things in the past, so he'd just assumed that the mech knew what he was doing.

Now he understood.

Everything made sense now.

It had been so easy to trust Jazz. The mech was so stubbornly friendly it made you forget about his shady past.

But he'd always managed to escape from Kaon somehow, even though Soundwave was here. He'd been gone and unable to help when the Decepticon assassin had attempted to kill Prowl. And he'd only 'figured out' that the invitation to Vos was a trap after it was too late to do anything.

All of that could have been intentional.

Furthermore, Yoketron had warned Prowl not to trust him.

Prowl should have listened.

It was too late now. He, Orion, and Ironhide could probably beat a handful of random Decepticons in a fight, even wearing stasis-cuffs, but there was no way they could take down Jazz.

He had them outmaneuvered. Was there anything Prowl could do about it? He could beat Jazz in a by-the-book battle of strategy, but the mech was unpredictable.

They stopped by a set of double doors, where a couple of mecha were standing guard.

"Gotta talk ta the boss," Jazz said to them.

"Plans have changed," one of the mechs at the door said. "Didn't you hear—"

"I know, but there's something I gotta tell him. Something he'll wanna know."

Jazz's tone brought Prowl out of his thoughts. There was something urgent in his voice—desperate, almost. What could he want to tell Megatron so badly?

And what was this change in plans?

"Fine," the door guard said, and the double doors swung open. Prowl was shoved forward, along with the others, into Megatron's throne room.

But it wasn't Megatron on the throne.

* * *

Orion didn't recognize the mech sitting on Megatron's throne. He was black and green and quite a bit smaller than the warlord. He scowled at Jazz as they approached him.

"Did you miss the memo? I said I don't need you to bring them here." The green and black mech gestured to Orion, Prowl, and Ironhide. "Go lock them up somewhere until I'm ready to deal with them."

"Sorry, boss," Jazz said. "But we gotta little problem."

What was going on? "Excuse me," Orion said. "Who are you? And where is Megatron?"

Jazz and the other mech ignored him.

"What kind of problem?"

"The big M's onta you," Jazz said.

"What!? But he—"

"Look, I know everything's goin' according ta plan, but I'm positive Megs knows you're gonna try and overthrow him. I _know_ he knows."

The green and black mech sat forward on the throne, resting his chin thoughtfully in his hand. He had familiar-looking glyphs running up his arm, but they were so stylized it was hard to read them. Where had Orion seen those before?

"Ya gotta believe me," Jazz said.

"I believe you," the green and black mech muttered.

"So…"

"Hold on, I'm thinking,"

Orion wanted to ask again what was going on, but they would probably keep ignoring him, and maybe there were more important things to worry about. If this mech was working against Megatron…

But that didn't mean he'd be willing to let Orion and his friends go, or even make a deal with them.

Orion tilted his helm to the side slightly, trying to read the glyphs on the mech's arm again. Some of the guards in the room had a similar looking symbol branded onto them too. It was…

Quantum.

That was right. Jazz's old gang had joined the Decepticons.

And Jazz… but… Jazz had left Quantum. That couldn't have been a lie, could it? When he'd joined Autobot, he'd told Orion the whole story and had seemed so sincere about leaving his old life behind. Soundwave had vouched for him…

Then again, Soundwave hadn't been trustworthy.

Perhaps he and Jazz had planned to betray Orion from the beginning…

Orion looked down at his stasis-cuffed hands.

No.

He refused to believe that Jazz had been lying the whole time.

Jazz wasn't a member of Quantum anymore.

He looked at the black and white mech, spark sinking. Mainspring had said he was sure it was really Jazz, and Orion hadn't questioned it.

But he knew he could trust Jazz. If Jazz was a traitor, Megatron would already have won.

So that must not really be Jazz.

Orion shuttered his optics. He kept getting mecha offlined. His insistence on negotiating with Vos, his insistence on retrieving the Key to Vector Sigma, his insistence on fighting the war, his insistence on standing up to the Council in the first place...

He'd lost too many friends, too many soldiers, too many innocents. Mecha from Vos, Tesarus, Iacon.

The members of the Elite Guard he'd brought here.

Potentially Jazz.

He couldn't do this.

He reached out to Elita over their bond, and tried to send her an apology. She must already know, of course, that something had gone wrong. He'd felt her fear and anxiety mirroring his through this experience.

She had been right.

He should have been more cautious. He should have thought things through. The more he considered it, the more he was certain the mech who'd led them here was that mechformer who'd tried to assassinate Prowl.

Elita reached back through the bond, and suddenly he knew something else was wrong—something more than the fact that he was in trouble.

Megatron.

Of course, if this had been a trap, Megatron would be attacking somewhere.

But even as he realized that, Elita sent him a confident feeling.

 _Don't worry,_ she seemed to say. _We've got this._

Orion un-shuttered his optics. For a moment, he was almost offended. What did she mean by that? The last time they'd tried to fight a battle without Prowl and Orion, it had gone terribly.

But then again… things were different now. They didn't have Ironhide, but they did have Ultra Magnus, and Prowl had a department and their soldiers had more training and experience.

Maybe they _could_ fend off the Decepticons without him.

Or at least hold them off for a little while.

"All right," the black and green Quantum mech said. "We're still doing this, we just have to outmaneuver him somehow. I just have to figure out how he's planning to stop me and avoid it."

"But—" Jazz—or more likely Makeshift—said.

The door to the throne room slammed open and a gray and red seeker came in.

"Good orn, Blackangle," the seeker said coolly.

The Quantum mech froze. "Starscream. What are _you_ doing here?" He said warily. "Didn't Megatron take you with him?"

"No," the seeker smirked. "He needed someone here who he could trust to oversee things."

Three other seekers came in behind him.

Blackangle stood.

Orion glanced at the open door, wondering if there would be an opportunity to sneak out. He had to get back to Iacon as quickly as possible.

"Well, everything's fine here," Blackangle said. "So you can go."

"Is that so?" Starscream sneered, stalking closer to the black and green mech. "Do you _really_ think I'm stupid enough to believe you? Did you _really_ think Megatron wouldn't uncover your little plan?"

"Okay," Blackangle said dismissively, and then lunged for the seeker with a knife in his hand.

Starscream leaped back with an undignified shriek, and Blackangle pursued him. The other members of Quantum attacked the seekers Starscream had brought with as well and in moments, the throne room was in chaos.

Orion forced himself to look away from the fight, then nudged Ironhide and tipped his helm in the direction of the open door.

Ironhide nodded, and he and Prowl followed as Orion headed across the room.

But they didn't quite make it.

A small, black and white mech stepped in front of them, blocking their way.

"Where ya think you're goin'?" he said, pulling out a wicked-looking knife.

Orion hesitated.

"Ya know ya can't beat me, Prime." Jazz said. "Not even all three of ya, not even if ya weren't wearing stasis cuffs."

Only one way to find out.

Orion rushed forward. Ironhide called out a warning, but he ignored it, easily dodged Jazz's knife thrust and tripped him, sending him crashing to the ground. Before the mech could get up again, Orion kicked the knife out of his hand.

"Don't follow us," he warned, and then led his startled friends out of the room.

"What…" Ironhide said as Orion stepped over an unconscious Quantum mech who lay in the hall outside. "You… took out _Jazz_! Wearing stasis cuffs!"

"That wasn't Jazz," Orion said, then turned to the left, opting to go back the way they had come. "Come on."

"Wait," Prowl said, jogging behind them. "That couldn't have been the mechformer. He had Jazz's comm."

"That _wasn't_ Jazz," Orion insisted.

They came to a T at the end of the hall.

"Which way?" Prowl asked. "If we go back the way they brought us, we'll end up in that underground cavern, not anywhere useful."

"We have to make a decision before someone comes after us," Ironhide said. "Come on." He shouldered past Orion and started running down the hall.

Orion followed, and Prowl came too, but skidded to a stop after an astrosecond.

"Wait," the Praxian said, doorwings twitching. "This way." He turned and ran the other direction.

Orion glanced at Ironhide, and nodded. They jogged after Prowl.

"We have to get these stasis cuffs off somehow," Ironhide said. "And get out into the city, so we can comm. for a bridge."

"I think something bad is happening with the army too," Orion said.

"Yeah," Ironhide said. "I can feel it. I bet Megatron's attacking somewhere."

Orion nodded.

They went around the corner and nearly crashed into Prowl.

"Hey!" Ironhide said. "Why did… oh, pit."

Just past Prowl, there was a mech sitting against the wall. Orion wouldn't have even thought he was conscious, except that he tilted his helm up slightly to look at them.

"Pit," Ironhide repeated. "You were right. What the frag..."

"Ya want those cuffs off?" Jazz asked quietly.

Orion stepped past Prowl and knelt in front of the smaller mech, who pulled a slender knife out of subspace, grimacing.

His visor was gone, and his faceplate was stained with energon and acid burn. The brand across it matched the one on Blackangle's arm.

"I'm so sorry," Orion said. "We should have realized… how did you..."

Jazz shook his helm and inserted his blade into the keyhole of the stasis cuffs with shaking hands. "No time," he said. "Megatron's attackin' Iacon, we gotta get you mecha back there."

"What?" Ironhide demanded.

"I got that idiot seeker ta explain their plan ta me," Jazz said. "They were gonna lure ya here, and then attack Iacon while ya were captured." He scowled at the lock. "Sorry I wasn't closer ta the throne room, I sat down ta wait for Starscream ta show up and distract Blackangle, but then I couldn't get up again."

The stasis cuffs clicked and then released.

Orion moved to the side, and Prowl knelt next, looking solemn. "You need a medic," the Praxian said.

"How d'ya figure that?" Jazz replied with the ghost of a smile.

Prowl shook his helm. "How… how did they transfer your comm. codes to the mechformer so quickly? Doesn't it normally take quartexes, even _if_ you can—"

"Sorry, mech," Jazz cut him off cheerfully, tilting his helm to the side and cupping a hand around the gaping hole where his left audio had been. "I'm a bit deaf at the moment, ya mind speakin' up?"

Orion's tanks churned as Jazz went back to working on Prowl's stasis cuffs. From his angle, he could see into the hole. They must have literally cut his comm out and surgically implanted it in Makeshift's helm instead.

And judging by all the jagged edges, exposed wires, and dried energon in Jazz's helm, they hadn't been very careful about it.

Prowl's stasis cuffs clicked and fell off.

"Thank you," the Praxian muttered, then got up and backed away to give room for Ironhide.

"So," Jazz said, sounding serious again. "The base is almost empty and I don't think ya'll run inta too much trouble, but let me walk ya through getting outta here."

"Don't bother," Ironhide said. "You're definitely coming with us."

"I'll slow ya down. It'll be better if ya drive."

"Shut up!" Ironhide said. "You're coming."

"You really think we'd leave you here?" Orion asked.

"Okay," Jazz said. "But let me walk ya through it anyway." He took in a deep shuddering vent and started giving instructions as he worked on Ironhide's stasis-cuffs.

He had a little more trouble with Ironhide's cuffs, but eventually, they fell to the ground.

"Orion," Prowl said. "Is the Key to Vector Sigma still here?"

Orion had completely forgotten about that. But after thinking for a moment, he realized he could still feel it. "Yes, but… do we have time to get it?"

"No," Ironhide said. "From how Chromia's feeling, don't think things are going very well in Iacon."

"And we gotta get out before Starscream and Blackangle stop fighting," Jazz said. "I'm sorry, Orion… I mean, we can try ta get it, but..."

It was so close… If they left without getting the key, this whole mission would be for nothing.

Orion heard running pedesteps, getting louder

He had to make a decision. What was most important right now?

"Orion?" Ironhide said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Get up, we have to go."

Orion reached over and carefully maneuvered his hands under Jazz to lift the smaller mech from the ground.

"We'd better hurry, whatever we're doing," Prowl said.

Orion stood, carrying Jazz. "Let's go," he said, and started down the hall. "We have to get out of here. We'll get the key some other time."

They couldn't risk it now. It would be difficult to get out as it was. Sometimes you just had to cut your losses.

They ran around the next corner. Orion tried not to jostle Jazz too much. He was glad the mech had given them directions beforehand so they didn't have to stop and ask at the end of each hallway. Also because by the time they went around the second corner, he didn't think Jazz was conscious anymore.

"So," Prowl said. "The Elite Guard aren't in that cavern anymore."

"What?" Ironhide said.

"I'm talking to Captain Bulwark over the comm." Prowl said. "We can't reach Iacon, but we can still talk to each other. The Elite Guard fought their way out, and now that our stasis cuffs are off, we can all find each other. I'll have them meet up with us on our way out."

Orion vented a sigh of relief. He had thought they were offline.

This was good. Jazz was online, the Elite Guard were online.

"Ironhide, how badly does it feel like the battle in Iacon is going?" Prowl said. "If we get out of here fast enough, we might be able to salvage it."

"I don't know," Ironhide said. "It's not exactly easy to tell, just from Chromia's emotions."

Orion opened his mouth to contribute, but Prowl shot him a warning look.

Right. They were in the Decepticon base. The last thing he wanted to do was give Megatron any hints about his bond.

"Well," Prowl said. "If it doesn't feel like they've lost yet, then maybe we have some time. I did have plans in case Megatron attacked us, and I think my department has access to them… I don't know how well they'll be able to implement anything, though…"

"We can talk about it after we get out of here," Ironhide said. "Come on."

As Jazz had said, the halls were empty. Prowl did claim to hear fighting blocking their way once or twice, and had to take them on a few detours, but overall, things were going well.

Until they came to a dead end. A lone door at the end of a corridor led them into a small, empty room with no other exits.

They stopped.

"Did we take a wrong turn?" Ironhide wondered.

"Well, yes," Prowl said. "We had to go around a few things. But I thought I still knew where we were. We _are_ close to the exit, I'm sure of it."

"Jazz?" Ironhide said.

Orion looked down at the black and white mech in his arms. Jazz's optics were dark and he'd gone completely limp. "He's unconscious."

"Well, wake him up," Ironhide said. "We need him to get us out of here."

Orion hesitated, then shook Jazz gently. "Jazz, wake up. We got lost."

The mech didn't respond.

"Jazz," Orion said again. "Please."

He couldn't hear the smaller mech's engine.

"Great," Prowl said. "Someone's coming."

Orion looked up at the doorway.

"Stay back," Ironhide said, and Orion stepped toward the wall, still carrying Jazz, while Ironhide shifted his arms into cannons and Prowl pulled a gun from subspace.

The seeker from before—Starscream—came in, followed by three others.

Ironhide powered up his guns.

"Don't bother," Starscream smirked. "You're outnumbered and you're about to be even _more_ outnumbered when my reinforcements show up. Besides, you'll find me much more difficult to get past than that glorified lackey who led you into my little trap."

Prowl sent Orion an internal comm. _"Let me talk to him, I have an idea."_

Jazz twitched in Orion's arms, which was a relief, because it meant he was still alive, but at this point it wouldn't be helpful if he woke up.

"Wait," Prowl said, lowering his gun slightly. "What do you mean, _your_ trap?"

The seeker grinned. "It was _my_ idea," he said. "Megatron thinks he's winning this war, but really, it's all thanks to me. Sending Makeshift back as Jazz after we caught him the second time was my idea. Having him lure you here was my idea. Attacking Iacon while you were gone was _my_ idea."

"Not everything could have been your idea," Prowl said, sounding dismissive. "What about Vos?"

"Of _course_ that was my idea!"

"Destroying Vos was _your_ idea?" Prowl sounded incredulous now.

"Yes! You think that idiot gladiator could come up with something like that?"

Prowl smirked.

"What!" one of the other seekers in the room demanded, rounding on Starscream.

"Um... oh, what am I saying?" Starscream backpedaled. "The Autobots were the ones to destroy Vos, everyone knows that. I meant it was my idea to invite the Vosians here afterward."

A purple seeker slipped closer to Starscream as the other two trained their weapons on him.

"Come now, friends," Starscream said. "You can't seriously believe what this Autobot just said. You know they've been accusing us of destroying Vos from the beginning."

"That came out of _your_ voice box," the larger seeker said. "Not theirs."

Orion could hear pedesteps coming down the hall.

"Ah," Starscream said. "My back-up. They'll never believe _you_ so you'd better—"

"Actually," Prowl said, subspacing his gun and crossing his arms. "That's _my_ back-up."

Starscream barely had time to stare at him before the Elite Guard started pouring into the room.

"I think this is the part where you surrender," Prowl said. "And I get to arrest you for your crimes against Cybertron."

Starscream glared at him, then before they could do anything, he fired twice—at the two confused-looking seekers who'd been distracted by the Elite Guard coming in.

The final seeker in the room—the purple one—grabbed him and with a loud popping noise, they disappeared into thin atmosphere.

"What the—" Ironhide said.

Orion stared at the place they'd been.

"Pit," Prowl said.

"Sir," Captain Bulwark addressed Orion. "We've found a way out."

"Good," Orion said, noting that Bulwark had burn marks on his armor.

"Is that… the traitor?" he frowned at Jazz.

"It's complicated," Prowl said. "We can explain once we're out of here. You said you found an exit?"

Captain Bulwark nodded, then ordered some of his mecha to go ahead, before motioning for Orion to join them.

"Wait!" the smaller of the seekers Starscream had left behind struggled to his pedes, clutching at the wound in his chest. "Don't leave me here. Starscream will kill me."

Captain Bulwark glanced at Orion.

"Bring him," Orion said, then carried Jazz down the hallway, following the Elite Guard who led them out of the building and onto the dark streets of Kaon.


	55. Ultimatum

Elita winced as another explosion shook the roof of the Autobot groundbridge station, sending dust down from the ceiling. Outside, her soldiers defended the warehouse. Inside, a handful of commanders and non-combatants waited, communicating over the group comm. as they listened to the nearby fighting.

 _"How are we doing, Hurricane?"_ Elita asked over the comm.

The tactician—Prowl's second in command—didn't answer for a few moments. He and the others in Prowl's department were in a nearby building that they'd been using as a command center since there wasn't room in Mirage's tower.

 _"We… can probably hold around the groundbridge station for a while longer,"_ Hurricane said. _"But there are too many Decepticons and we'll eventually have to retreat."_

 _"Not if we get Orion and Prowl back here."_ Elita said.

 _"That's a bit of a long shot. Even if they make it out of the Decepticons' trap, there's no guarantee they can get back here fast enough."_

 _"We have to trust them,_ " Elita said. _"We'll hold as long as we can."_

 _"Understood,"_ Hurricane said.

After Red Alert had officially deferred command of the army to her, no one had complained that Elita had taken charge.

Part of her wished someone had complained—part of her wished someone else had wanted to do it. She hadn't truly comprehended what it felt like for everything to hinge on her decisions—what it felt like to choose between surrendering and condemning her soldiers to death.

Every breem or two, when she got a casualty report, she knew she might have saved those mecha if she'd retreated earlier.

But retreating meant abandoning Iacon to Megatron's control.

At least she could tell that Orion was still online and unhurt. And even if they'd been caught in some sort of trap, she'd heard confirmation that both Megatron and Soundwave were here in Iacon. That meant Elita had to deal with them, but it also meant Orion, Prowl, Ironhide, Jazz, and the Elite Guard wouldn't be dealing with anything more than a handful of henchmen.

A group of mecha came in through the doors, carrying their injured comrades. Elita watched them go through an open groundbridge to Nova Cronum.

 _"Commander Elita One?"_ Hurricane said, sounding concerned.

 _"Yes?"_

 _"A contingent of Decepticons have just attacked the Iacon Enforcement Headquarters."_

She frowned. _"Why?"_

Mainspring answered. _"That's where the controls for the city-wide groundbridge shield is. If they take it and activate the shield, we won't be able to retreat."_

Elita looked at the row of groundbriges. Only a few of them were active, transporting supplies and injured mecha back and forth between here and Nova Cronum. The Council there had agreed to harbor them if they needed to retreat. Several mecha, including Red Alert, and most Autobot noncombatants were already there.

 _"Elita,"_ Accord said. _"Enforcement is asking for back-up to defend their headquarters."_

 _"Hurricane, can we send help to them?"_ Elita asked.

 _"No,"_ he said. _"We're barely holding out here."_

Chromia sent her another casualty report.

 _"Commander Elita One,"_ Ultra Magnus said over the comm. _"I would recommend you and Chromia join the others in Nova Cronum before you are stranded here."_

She didn't want to leave.

She didn't want to abandon her home.

There was still hope that Orion and Prowl could come back.

But at this point, even _that_ might not tip the battle in their favor.

 _"We could abandon this position and try to bridge all of our mecha to enforcement headquarters,"_ Hurricane said. _"But even though that's a more defensible position, I don't think we'd last that long."_

Elita started as another explosion shook the warehouse.

Sometimes you had to cut your losses.

 _"No,"_ she said. _"We're going to retreat while we still can. Send as many mecha as possible through the groundbridges here, Hurricane. I'll have a bridge opened in the building you're in that will take you and the rest of your department to safety as well."_

 _"But… I won't be able to direct the battle very well without—"_

 _"That's an order,"_ Elita said. _"Just try to make sure the Autobots know where to go, and then get out. Red Alert, are we clear to come through?"_

 _"Yes!"_ Red Alert said. _"Hurry!"_

She gave the order and the mecha running the bridges brought all twelve of them to life. She commed the chief of enforcement as soldiers poured into the warehouse.

 _"Commander Elita One,"_ he said. _"Thank Primus. We need help."_

 _"Is there a way to lock down that groundbridge shield so the Decepticons can't use it?"_

 _"If you're asking us to blow it up like you did in Tesarus, we don't know how."_

 _"Is there another way?"_ Elita said. _"Something that would at least slow them down."_

 _"We could shut off the power. Rebooting the groundbridge shield will take several breems."_

 _"Do that,"_ Elita said. _"And then get out of the building. We can't come help you—we're pinned down here. But if you abandon the building to the Decepticons, they probably won't pursue you."_

 _"But…"_

 _"I'm sorry,"_ she said.

"Elita!" Chromia grabbed her arm. "Are you listening? We should go."

Elita hesitated. She didn't want to go yet—didn't want to cut in front of the soldiers who were flooding through the bridges.

 _"Commander Elita One,"_ The chief of enforcement said grimly _"I'm afraid we may be too late. Our systems have been taken over and we can't—"_ The comm. fizzled out.

No…

"Elita!" Chromia said.

She saw Ultra Magnus enter through the warehouse doors and nodded. She and her sisters went to join him.

 _"I've lost connection with enforcement,"_ Accord said.

"We have to go through," Elita said out loud. "Now."

Ultra Magnus frowned, but nodded. He was limping heavily, and leaking from a long gash in his leg.

She led her sisters and Ultra Magnus to the front of the line and the soldiers there backed up to let them through.

With a bitter feeling in her tanks, she stepped through the groundbridge and led the way to the side of the room, where Red Alert was directing traffic.

A senator from the Nova Cronum Council was standing next to him.

"Welcome, Commander Elita One," he said. "We are glad to have you here."

She found she suddenly didn't like being called 'commander' but she brushed that thought off. "I can't thank you enough," she replied. "We're putting your city-state in danger just by being—"

There was a loud static sound and screaming, and then all the groundbridges disappeared.

Leaving more than half of the Autobot army behind.

* * *

Orion felt it over the bond when everything went wrong. Whatever was blocking their comms to Iacon had extended past the base and the nearby neighborhoods, so they couldn't help. They couldn't even find out what had happened.

He could feel Elita's despair, though, and could only imagine...

He wished he could do something, but he knew it was already too late. He had left Iacon, and because of it, he had lost Iacon.

At least he hadn't lost Elita. She didn't feel afraid anymore, just hopeless and guilty.

But he couldn't help wondering if they had lost the war.

Eventually, the Elite Guard led them down onto a secluded street along the side of a deep ravine. Captain Bulwark called a halt, and Orion stopped, grateful for the chance to rest.

"Orion," Prowl said. "I just got in touch with Mainspring. We can reach Iacon again."

Orion nodded and carefully set Jazz on the ground "Captain Bulwark, do any of your mecha have medical training?"

Bulwark hesitated a moment, then nodded. One of his mecha came over and knelt by Jazz, looking concerned.

Orion sat down against a wall, took in a deep vent, and commed Elita on an internal frequency so he could speak privately with her.

She answered immediately, but neither of them spoke for several astroseconds.

Orion broke the silence. _"I'm so sorry,"_ he said.

 _"I am too…"_

 _"For what?"_

 _"I… Red Alert was panicking so I led the battle. I… didn't retreat soon enough, and I left more than half of the army back in Iacon. We don't know if… they're dead or not, but either way Megatron won."_

Orion's spark sank. _"Are you all right, though?"_

 _"Yes. We retreated to Nova Cronum before the Decepticons put up a groundbridge shield."_

 _"The other commanders?"_

 _"They all made it through."_ Elita said. _"Ultra Magnus is injured, but not too badly. How about you? Are you all right? Is everyone who went with you all right?"_

 _"We lost a few Elite Guardsmechs, but other than that, everyone's online."_ He glanced at Jazz. The Elite Guard looking him over had a sort of helpless expression on his faceplate.

Not a good sign.

 _"What happened?"_

 _"It was a trap. The mech who led us there wasn't Jazz, he was that mechformer."_

 _"What?"_ Elita said. _"But… wait, does that mean the Decepticons have had Jazz this whole time?"_

 _"Yes. But we found him,"_ Orion said. _"Well, he found us, really. He's not in very good shape, and he needs a medic as soon as possible, but… he was conscious less than a joor ago, so I think he'll make it."_

 _"Okay,"_ Elita said. _"Apparently, there's a groundbridge shield over the whole of Kaon, so you'll have to get out of the city-state before we bring you here."_

 _"All right."_

 _"I'm so glad you're okay, though."_

Orion vented a sigh. _"You too… Elita?"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Have we lost the war?"_

He felt her hopelessness over the bond. _"Yes,"_ she said. _"I think we might have."_

 _"This is my fault. I should have listened to you—you told me it was too dangerous, and I just…"_

 _"Don't,"_ Elita said. _"What's done is done. Come here to Nova Cronum and we can figure out what to do next. All right?"_

 _"All Right."_

 _"I love you."_

 _"I love you too."_

Silence fell, but neither of them ended the comm.

Orion looked at the Elite Guardsmech kneeling over Jazz. "Well?" he said.

"I don't know, Sir," the mech said. "His injuries are old enough they're not really leaking anymore, and there's not much I can do. We need a real medic. We could force feed him some energon, I suppose, but I'm not sure if that would do any good. It might be better just to let him stay in stasis until we can get him some better help."

Orion nodded. "Let him be, then. What about the seeker?"

"He seems all right," the mech said. "Probably didn't even _really_ need us to carry him."

"All right!" Captain Bulwark announced, approaching Orion. "We've got to get to the outskirts of the city-state so the Autobots can bridge us to Nova Cronum. Take a few breems to rest and refuel and then we'll drive." He turned to Orion. "If that's all right."

"What about the injured?"

"Some of us have larger alt modes," Bulwark said. "We'll be able to carry this one. I don't know about..." he trailed off, looking past Orion, and Orion turned to see the seeker limping toward them dramatically.

"I'll be fine," the mech said. "I must go back and tell the others about Starscream's treachery, so I won't be going with you."

"Are you sure?" Orion said. "That seems dangerous."

"From what I've heard, going with you may not be much safer."

Orion nodded and got to his pedes. "Very well. Thank you."

"No, thank _you_ for helping me escape the base, groundpounder," the seeker said, then turned and stepped off the edge of the street. Orion watched as he transformed, apparently unfazed by his injury, and flew away.

When the seeker was out of sight, Orion leaned against the wall.

What were they going to do about Iacon? Would they be able to take it back, or was it well and truly lost?

Prowl came over and stood by him, doorwings drooping as he stared dully down at Jazz.

"They left fifty-eight percent of the army in Iacon," the Praxian said.

Orion nodded.

"And of the rest, about ten percent are injured. And Megatron has Iacon and all of our other resources."

Orion looked over at him.

"I can't believe this."

"Is there anything we can do?" Orion asked.

Prowl frowned and didn't answer.

Orion shuttered his optics. "I'm sorry," he said. "We shouldn't have come on this mission."

"I should have known," Prowl said.

Silence.

"Should have known what?"

"He called me by my actual designation several times over the past few orns. That should have given it away, but I wasn't paying attention."

Right. Makeshift. "He fooled all of us," Orion said. "It's easier to see in hindsight."

"Jazz tried so hard to be friends with me, and I always just ignored him, like I ignore everyone. And then I actually believed he betrayed us for a few breems, despite everything he's done to prove his loyalty."

"Prowl?"

"I don't know," Prowl said. "I don't know what to do about the war or Megatron or anything. Maybe we've just lost. I don't want to believe that, but…"

"Let's get back to the others," Orion said. "And then we'll decide what to do."

Prowl took in a deep vent and let it out slowly. "All right."

"Ready?" Captain Bulwark said.

"Yes," Orion replied. "Let's go."

"Okay, mechs let's drive!" Captain Bulwark said.

Orion waited for the others to transform and helped strap Jazz to the mech with the largest vehicle mode. Then he transformed as well and drove between Ironhide and Prowl in the middle of the procession.

He spoke to Elita over the still open comm. channel.

 _"We're coming,"_ he said. _"I'll see you soon."_

* * *

Megatron landed on the roof of the Council Hall. This building was going next, and once it was only rubble—once the dust had settled—he'd find something else to knock down. He was in that sort of mood.

The Iacon Hall of Records had yielded nothing. No secrets, no weapons, just a lot of useless datapads. Casurus had lied to him—no surprise there.

But at least he had the city. At least he had won the war. He had captured more than half of the Autobot forces. They had surrendered after they'd been abandoned by their commanders, so he hadn't killed them yet. If he was careful, he might be able to negotiate a deal in which the remaining Autobot commanders gave themselves up in return for their soldiers' release. They were just the sort of mecha who would fall for that trick.

Of course, Orion himself and that insufferable Praxian should be offline by now, and Blackangle should be in custody or dead as well. But he didn't know for certain yet.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a familiar seeker came streaking toward him.

Megatron narrowed his optics.

What was he doing here?

Starscream transformed and landed with a flourish. "Lord Megatron," he said, bowing.

"You're supposed to be in Kaon, guarding my fortress," Megatron growled. "Why are you here?"

Starscream took a step away from him, looking injured. "I wanted to deliver my report personally, Lord Megatron," he said. "I successfully apprehended the traitor, Blackangle, and his followers are all offline or imprisoned as well."

Megatron nodded. "Good work."

"Thank you, my liege," Starscream said.

"And Prowl and the Prime?"

Starscream hesitated.

 _"What?"_ Megatron demanded.

"Well…" Starscream said. "That's another reason I thought it best to come in person to explain things."

"You didn't let them _escape_ did you?"

"I… they had help. That Autobot spy got loose and showed them the way out."

 _"Jazz_ escaped!" Megatron demanded. _"How!?"_

"It wasn't _my_ fault! I think it was my brother, Thundercracker. He betrayed us and disappeared as well. He must have been helping them!" Starscream danced away as Megatron bore down on him.

"I _told_ you not to _let them escape!"_

"I brought you this!" Starscream pulled something out of subspace. "I made sure they didn't take it on their way out."

Megatron snatched the Key to Vector Sigma from his hand. "You think I care about this piece of _scrap metal_? It means _nothing_ to me! If you had time to go snooping around in my vaults for it, why didn't you have time to _stop Pax from escaping!"_

"My forces were otherwise occupied subduing Blackangle's followers," Starscream whined. "I couldn't stop them!"

Megatron realized what that meant, and the key he was holding bit into his hand as he restrained himself from tearing the seeker's helm off. "You mean to tell me?" he growled. "That you _waited_ for the Prime to show up and then as _soon_ as he was there you started the fight with Blackangle?"

"Well, yes," Starscream admitted.

"To make it easier for them to slip away while everyone was distracted, I suppose?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then _why?"_

"I… well I didn't want _Blackangle_ to take the credit for killing Prowl. Jazz said I…" he trailed off, frowning.

"What?" Megatron demanded.

"Nothing," Starscream said quickly. "I… I'll hunt them down for you. They can't have gone far. There's a groundbridge shield over Kaon, so they can't escape."

"I don't doubt you've already tried to find them," Megatron subspaced the Key to Vector Sigma. "Either way, you've failed me, Starscream." He held up his arm cannon.

"No!" Starscream said. "Please! How can I make it up to you, my liege? I'll do anything! Please! Where would you be without me?"

Megatron glared at him. "Well, I'd be a few steps closer to winning this war, for one thing!"

"What about Vos? I'm the one who made that possible. I can come up with more ideas like that! Please, my liege, you promised to give me Blackangle's position."

"You still think you're going to be my second in command?"

"I did as you asked!" Starscream said. "I wouldn't have lost the Autobots if it weren't for Thundercracker! I didn't expect him to betray me like that!"

"So it's his fault?" Megatron said.

"Yes! It's _all_ his fault!"

"Fine then," Megatron lowered his arm cannon. "I'll give you one last chance to prove your loyalty, Starscream."

"Thank you, my liege!" Starscream said, "Thank you—"

"Kill him," Megatron growled. "Find your brother and kill him and bring me his helm. Then I'll give you Blackangle's position."

Starscream's optics widened.

"Those are my conditions," Megatron said. "Now get out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you live!"

Starscream hesitated, then nodded, faceplate hardening. "Your wish is my command, Lord Megatron."

Megatron watched him transform and fly away.

Then he turned away, hands clenched into fists.

Prowl had escaped _again,_ and so had Orion.

But he told himself it didn't matter.

He still had the upper hand.

And if things did somehow go wrong, he knew _one_ mech who never failed him.

* * *

Keepsake walked into the room and sat down shakily on the bench in front of the screen.

 _"…has been extensive damage to the cities larger structures, including the Hall of Records and the High Towers of Translucentica Heights. They've locked down the borders and no civilians have made it out of the central sector since the take-over. We don't yet have an estimate for the number of casualties, nor do we have any idea what Megatron plans to do with the city, but if the civilians do rise up against him, we can only assume there will be many deaths on both sides…"_

"They took Iacon," Keepsake said quietly.

Cam nodded.

 _"…leaders of the Autobots, who have reportedly survived the attack and escaped the city, have made no statements about what their plans are now—whether to surrender or keep fighting…"_

Keepsake got up again. "Turn that off," she said. "I'm going to go wake Blaster up for some energon."

"We need to know what…"

Breeze got up and turned off the screen. "You know you can't protect him by turning it off. He'll know anyway."

"Well, _I_ don't want to watch anymore," Keepsake said.

"Maybe this is for the—" Cam said.

"Don't you dare say maybe it's for the best," Keepsake growled. "That gladiator is a monster, even if you don't believe he sank Vos. There are things we _know_ he's done." She left the room. Cam was getting out of control. He didn't seem to understand that there wasn't a right or wrong side to this pointless, awful war. No matter who was right, both sides were killing good, honest, innocent mecha.

She opened the door to Blaster's room and froze.

It was empty. He and his symbiots were gone.

Maybe they'd just gotten up already, and she just hadn't noticed them... But the other two hadn't mentioned seeing him when she'd told them she was going to get him.

She could look—she _would_ look. She'd scour the apartment and they'd search the nearby streets. But she had a sneaking suspicion that it would be no use. If Blaster didn't want them to find him, they'd never find him.

And he was probably long gone already—her second youngling headed to the war zone to fight for a losing cause.

* * *

Elita watched the last of the sun's light disappear. It was so unusual to see it set—she'd lived her whole life in Iacon where the sun skimmed the horizon all 40 joors of the orn. It was disorienting not to have it there—strange for the lights of the city to be the brightest thing she could see.

It was also far too dark. The stars were admittedly beautiful, but she didn't much care for the dark.

They had lost Iacon.

 _She_ had lost Iacon.

She might never get to go back home.

Chromia stuck her helm out the door. "They've made it out of Kaon. I assume you want to be there when we bridge them here."

Elita nodded and stepped inside. Chromia slung an arm around her shoulder and guided her through the groundbridge station. "Hey," she said as they went. "I'm proud of you, you know—for taking charge like that."

"I didn't do very well," Elita said with a sigh.

Chromia snorted. "You did great. You really think Red Alert could have done better?"

"Well… that's still not saying much."

"Would you just take the compliment and stop feeling guilty?" Chromia said. "No one could have won that fight."

They joined the circle of mecha around the dark groundbridge. The mech who owned the station had agreed to let Elita use it for a few orns, and had shut down normal traffic through it. He'd also found them a nearby building to use as a temporary base.

Elita looked around at the gathered mecha. Mainspring, Red Alert, Moonracer, Ultra Magnus… even Ratchet had left his work, and was standing off to the side, tapping his finger nervously on the small, mobile medical berth he'd brought.

The groundbridge operator from Nova Cronum looked to Ultra Magnus, who, in turn, met Elita's gaze. "We await your command," he said.

Right. She hadn't passed command back to Red Alert.

He hadn't asked for it, so she'd forgotten.

She took in a deep vent. "Bring them…" she caught herself before saying "home."

The groundbridge activated and Elita watched as the Elite Guard came pouring through. Then Ironhide and Prowl, followed by Orion carrying Jazz. More Elite Guardsmechs came after them. Ironhide went to stand by Chromia, but Orion walked over to Ratchet instead and set Jazz's limp frame on the berth. Ratchet scanned Jazz and then rushed him from the room without saying a word.

The Elite Guard finally finished coming through the bridge and the groundbridge operator shut it.

Elita took a step toward Orion, who was staring after Ratchet with a worried frown on his faceplate. But he turned to face her as she approached. There was a moment of hesitation and then he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground.

For a moment, she worried about everyone watching, but then she let herself relax and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up higher so the top of her faceplate rested against his chin.

Moments passed. Elita wished she didn't have to let go.

But the war wasn't quite over yet.

"Megatron wants to talk to you," she murmured. "We put him off—told him you were busy and would talk to him when you were available."

They'd been worried the Decepticons would find Orion and the others before they reached the outskirts of Kaon, so they hadn't wanted to admit he wasn't back safe yet. Of course, Megatron had seen through that and simply told them to contact him when Orion arrived.

Orion set her down, and she backed away. She had to keep her distance for now.

They'd already shown more affection than was wise.

"Very well," Orion said. "I will speak with Megatron.

"If you want a few breems to prepare…"

Orion shook his helm. "The sooner we speak, the better I'm sure his mood will be."

"Come then." Elita led the way out of the groundbridge station. They were using a nearby park as a sort of temporary camp for their soldiers, and they had a small building from which they were running things. It wasn't as nice as Mirage's tower, and Red Alert had been having fits about the security since they'd arrived, but it was a roof over their helms, so she wasn't complaining.

They walked to the building, and Elita took them to the largest room, which was still much smaller than their meeting room in Mirage's tower.

It did have a projector that they could use, though. She went over to turn it on and connect it to the building's comm. hub.

"So," Prowl said. "How are we doing this?"

"Let me talk," Orion said. "I'm sure he'll want us to surrender…"

"We can't surrender," Ironhide said firmly. "Besides, it won't stop him from killing anyone."

Orion looked down. "Prowl, have you thought of any way to launch a counter-attack?"

Prowl shook his helm "Not with our forces," he said. "If we had our whole army, we could do it. But our current resources aren't enough."

"Are you ready?" Elita asked.

"Yes."

She nodded, and sent a message to let Megatron know that Orion was ready to speak to him.

A few astroseconds later, Soundwave answered, and Elita ran the visual feed he sent through the projector.

She recognized the room Megatron was in as a building in the Iacon Academy. Interesting that he'd chosen to set up there instead of the Council Hall.

But then again, he never left Council Halls standing in the cities he conquered.

Orion spoke first. "Megatronus," he said softly. "You wanted to talk to me."

"You may call me that," Megatron said. "But it won't bring back the past."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out slowly.

"Your cause is lost," Megatron continued. "You, yourself, may have escaped from Kaon, but you have no hope of winning without your army. It would be in everyone's best interest for you to surrender."

"That may be where we disagree," Orion said.

"Then let me persuade you," Megatron backed away from the screen and looked to the side. A mech wearing an Autobot insignia was dragged on screen by a couple of Decepticon guards. He was missing an arm, and leaking from numerous wounds.

Elita realized where this was going, and looked away, reminded suddenly of the disastrous trip to Vos.

"I have thousands of Autobot prisoners," Megatron said.

"Don't—"

Orion's voice was cut off by the sound of Megatron's arm cannon firing.

She felt her sparkmate watch as the Autobot soldier offlined.

"Every ten breems, one of them will die," Megatron said casually. "Until I get what I want. I think that's fair. Gives you plenty of time to consider. Orns, even, if you're feeling indecisive."

"That was unnecessary," Orion's voice shook. "You… don't need to kill anyone. I was willing to negotiate without—"

"But _I'm_ not willing to negotiate," Megatron said. "And I'm in the position of power here. There is only one way to make the executions stop, Pax."

Silence fell in the room. Elita didn't dare vent.

"Come to Iacon," Megatron said. "Turn yourself in. I'll need Prowl, as well. When the two of you are here, I'll let the remainder of your soldiers go, unharmed."

Well, that was about what they'd expected. Elita crossed her arms nervously, and looked at Orion, who'd gone frighteningly calm.

"That is the only trade you'll accept?"

"Correct," Megatron said.

"How can I know you'll keep your word?"

Megatron smirked. "I think you know the answer to that. But it really doesn't matter. The longer you wait, the more you'll lose. You can take a chance and trust me, or you can let all of your soldiers offline one by one. Know only that if you attack me or stage some sort of foolish rescue attempt, I _will_ kill every single one of them. Agreeing to my terms is your best bet for saving them."

Orion looked down.

"I'll be available to speak again once you've made a decision," Megatron said.

The screen went blank.

Orion shuttered his optics.

"Great," Moonracer said. "Now what?"

"You can't turn yourself in," Ironhide said. "Orion?"

"Maybe we can rescue them," Chromia said. "I mean, it's not like he can make good on his threats if they've already escaped."

"We need to find out where they're being kept, in that case," Mainspring said.

"I doubt we'll have a good opportunity," Prowl said. "We could potentially rescue them, but not without a fight. We'd lose a lot of mecha."

"You're not seriously suggesting we do as Megatron asks."

"Orion?" Ironhide said again, this time with a warning tone in his voice.

He stood. He needed to think.

"Orion, where are you going?"

"Please," he said, and the room quieted. "I need a few breems."

In a few breems, Megatron would kill another one of his soldiers.

He walked around the table and left the room, then realized he didn't know where anything was in this building—didn't have an office or a room or anywhere to go.

Fortunately, Elita followed him. "Come on," she said, and led him to a small room with a desk and several chairs. The desk was cluttered with various knick-knacks and empty energon cubes—a reminder that someone else worked here and they were simply borrowing the space.

He sat down at the desk. "Thank you. You can—"

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," Elita said.

Orion sighed, and looked down at his hands.

He wasn't sure what to do. Giving himself up didn't feel like the right decision. But he wasn't sure what else to try. If he moved against Megatron, he risked the lives of his soldiers.

Of course the rest of them would argue, but… wasn't this his decision?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Elita standing next to him. There was a resigned look in her optics.

"If you go, I'm going with you," she said. "You know that, right? Our bond is strong enough it'll probably kill me if you die."

He'd forgotten that.

"Don't be so horrified," Elita said. "Megatron will kill someone every ten breems. Thousands of mecha have offlined in this war already. I know you think every life matters equally, so you can't say more important than any of them."

All life was precious. Elita's life, Orion's, the lives of the Autobot and Decepticon soldiers.

That didn't help him make a decision. If he gave himself up, Megatron would most likely take over the world and many would die because of it. But would fighting lead to even more death? How could he know which road would lead to the least suffering in the long run?

And what if that road required him to let mecha offline now when he could save them?

Many mecha throughout history had committed atrocities in the name of the greater good.

"Orion?"

He glanced behind himself to see Prowl standing in the doorway.

"A word?"

Orion nodded, and the Praxian came in and shut the door.

Prowl took in a deep vent. "We can free Iacon," he said. "There is a way."

Orion could feel Elita's hope, but the grim tone of Prowl's voice didn't seem very encouraging to him.

"If Megatron released the rest of our army, then we could expel the Decepticons from Iacon, especially if we get some support from the civilians in the city-state."

Elita frowned thoughtfully. "But you'd have to turn yourself in, and then you wouldn't be able to direct the battle."

"I could lay out plans for my department to follow. They did better than I expected when Megatron attacked Iacon. If it weren't for Soundwave's trick with the groundbridge shield generator, you would have all retreated safely."

"But if Megatron has you and Orion, he'll use you against us."

"You'll have to ignore that," Prowl said. "I said it was a plan to reclaim Iacon, not a plan to save everyone."

Orion glanced up. "You think we should turn ourselves in?"

"It really is the best way to get our soldiers back," Prowl said.

"But can we trust Megatron to release them?"

"Of course not," Prowl said. "He'll trust _your_ word, though, so if you insist he releases them before you turn yourself in, then he'll probably do it."

Orion frowned.

"It wouldn't help much in the long run," Prowl said. "Because, while Megatron might keep you alive long enough for someone to rescue you, he'll probably kill me on sight. But we'd get Iacon back."

Orion shook his helm.

"Of course," Prowl said. "Once Megatron has released the rest of the army, we could just go back on our promise and _not_ turn ourselves in, but he'd certainly seek retribution for that, possibly by slaughtering Iaconian civilians."

"I couldn't go back on that kind of an agreement anyway," Orion said.

"I figured you'd feel that way," Prowl sighed. "So… what do _you_ think we should do?"

Orion considered for a few breems. "How could we save the most lives?" he asked.

"In the short run?" Prowl said. "Definitely surrendering, provided we force Megatron to set our soldiers free before we turn ourselves in. In the long run… I have no idea."

He talked about turning themselves in so casually… it would mean almost certain death, especially for him.

"It feels wrong to just give up," Prowl said. "Or… maybe I'm just a coward and don't want to sacrifice myself. But for now, that's the best way to save our soldiers. After Megatron takes over the world, he might hunt them down, of course, but there's not much we could do about that."

It did feel wrong to give up.

On the other hand…

"Or I suppose we could attack him," Prowl said. "It would be suicide, but at least we could say we went down fighting."

Orion studied the clutter on the desk.

"In the end, it's up to you," Prowl continued. "I'll go along with whatever you decide. I know everyone else will try to talk you out of turning yourself in, but… if that's what you think is best, I'll go with you."

He shuttered his optics. If he asked, Prowl would hand himself over to Megatron.

Elita would probably insist on going with him as well.

It wouldn't just be his life he was sacrificing.

How could he make this choice?

In a few breems, Megatron would offline another one of his soldiers.

"We were going to lose eventually. As I've said before, we can only keep up our current strategies so long before the ratio of our forces to Megatron's is skewed enough that it's impossible for us to win."

Orion could turn himself in. He didn't want to die, but if it was the best choice, he would do it.

Would that be the best choice, though? He was the Prime, after all. He didn't think Primus had chosen him so he could give up and hand himself over to Megatron. Wasn't there more he needed to do first?

"I don't like giving up," Elita said. "And I don't think turning yourselves in will stop the war, or the killing."

"But if we attack him and lose, that won't stop the killing either," Prowl said. "This would at least give our mecha a chance to go into hiding."

Orion didn't know what to do. He needed someone older and wiser to advise him—Alpha Trion, Yoketron, anyone. Alpha Trion was probably unreachable thanks to the comm block over Iacon. And Yoketron…

No.

Orion was on his own.

Or…

Was he?

"There has to be something," Elita said.

"If we have to, we'll turn ourselves in," Orion looked up

They stared at him.

"But before we make a final decision about that, there's something I must do."


	56. The Trial of Primus

Elita followed Orion back into the room where everyone else was still arguing. He didn't say anything, but waited by the door, and after a breem, everyone stopped talking and looked to him.

"Orion, do we have a plan?" Ironhide asked.

Orion took in a deep vent, but then hesitated. Back in the office, he'd felt a glimmer of hope, but now Elita could feel caution and unease coming through the bond, as if he didn't think the others would like his plan.

Ironhide spoke again before he could say anything. "You can't turn yourselves in."

"We will honor his decision, no matter what it is," Ultra Magnus snapped at him. "Though—"

"Just stop," Elita cut in. "Let Orion tell us what he's decided."

She smiled encouragingly at him, also sending support over the bond. Whatever his plan was, she would trust him and follow him, and she wanted him to know that.

"Thank you," he said, returning her smile, but feeling almost guilty now. "This is a very difficult decision, and I'm not sure how to proceed. But… there's something you should all know. I'm sorry I did not make it a priority earlier."

Silence fell.

"Shortly after the Council fell, I received a message from Simfur informing me that the Core of Cybertron has become… corrupted."

The silence deepened.

"The Defenders of the Allspark Temple asked me to visit Simfur. They wanted me to speak with Primus and see if there could be anything done about the Core. I felt I was too busy, and so I put it off and then forgot about it. That was wrong of me."

"So…" Ironhide said.

"So I must go to Simfur," Orion said.

"What?" Chromia demanded. "That's not relevant at all. We have to figure out what to do about Megatron and Iacon."

"If we lose Iacon, or our army, we can start over," Orion said. "But if the Core of Cybertron goes dark or stops producing energon…"

"Goes dark?" Mainspring said. "What does that even mean? Primus can't… can't die, can he?"

"I don't know," Orion said. "I will have to ask him. Perhaps there is something we can do to help him."

"What about Iacon?" Prowl asked.

"If Primus is willing to speak to me, then I will ask him what to do about Megatron and Iacon."

Prowl shook his helm. "Even if Primus actually _exists,_ which I doubt _,_ he doesn't seem like the type to _help_ anyone. And if there's something wrong with the Core, I doubt _you_ can do anything about it."

"I… kind of have to agree," Ironhide said. "Not about Primus not existing, but about this being a waste of time. Orion, you can't just run from this, we have to make a decision now. Megatron's going to keep killing our soldiers until we do something about it."

"This is my responsibility as a Prime," Orion said.

"Really?" Ironhide said. "Since when, Orion? This _isn't_ the time to start caring about that. Prowl, you mentioned you had some sort of an idea before you went to talk to them. It wasn't _this_ , was it?"

"Not at all," Prowl said.

"Let's hear Prowl's idea, then. And—"

"No!" Orion said. "This is what I need to do. If there's something I can do about the Core, then I need to know. If there's nothing I can do, and Primus won't speak to me, then I will go to Iacon and exchange myself for our soldiers."

Silence fell again.

"No."

"Ironhide, please..."

"You can't turn yourself in, and you _can't_ just abandon us while you go on some spiritual journey while we sit and wait for Megatron to attack us. That's how we lost Tesarus!"

Orion looked down. No one spoke, not even Ultra Magnus, though he glared furiously at Ironhide.

"If this was so important, you should have done it earlier," Ironhide said.

"Yes," Orion sighed. "I should have." He raised his helm. "After the Council fell, Alpha Trion warned me that my priorities were in the wrong place. And Elita said the same thing before I went on the mission to retrieve the Key to Vector Sigma. Because I didn't listen to them, Iacon is now in Megatron's hands."

"Okay," Ironhide said. "Well, _I'm_ warning you now. Are you going to listen to me, or ignore me like you ignore everyone who disagrees with you?"

The reflected turmoil over the bond was almost physically painful.

"What would you do?" Orion asked. "If you could trade your life for the lives of our soldiers?"

Ironhide didn't answer.

"I don't know," Orion said. "I don't trust myself, Ironhide. I know I'm not a good military commander, and I know I'm not a good Prime, but somehow I have to fill both of those roles. I don't know what to do, or what's most important, or what decisions I should make. If you were in my position, what would you do?"

The silence stretched out for several astroseconds.

Then Orion spoke again. "Relying on my own wisdom has brought this disaster upon us. If you can tell me what I should do, I will listen. Otherwise... please let me ask Primus for his advice on the matter."

Ironhide sighed. "Fine," he said. "But I'm going with you. You shouldn't wander around by yourself, even in Simfur."

Elita felt Orion's relief through the bond. "Thank you," he said. "Mainspring, can you arrange a groundbridge?"

"Yes," Mainspring said.

Orion turned to meet Elita's optics solemnly. "Can I leave you in charge while I'm gone?"

Elita hesitated. Technically, Prowl ought to be in charge, or Red Alert, or Mainspring, or even Ultra Magnus.

"Please?"

She nodded. "I'll hold down the fort," she said.

"Thank you."

"If you head to the station, they'll be ready for you," Mainspring said.

Orion nodded and left the room with Ironhide trailing after him.

Silence fell for a few astroseconds.

"The Core going dark?" Moonracer said. "Why… why haven't we heard about that? Are we sure this isn't another trap or something?"

"I'm getting really tired of those," Chromia crossed her arms.

"We trust the mech who sent us the information," Elita said. "It's difficult to get to the Core, so it's possible not very many mecha have been there. I… honestly, I knew too, but there was so much else going on, I forgot."

"You know, several energon mines have started producing some sort of toxic material instead of energon," Chromia said. "I wonder if that's related."

"How could the Core have been poisoned, though?" Prowl said.

"Maybe the war?" Moonracer suggested.

"That's illogical. War itself can't…"

"Prowl?" Elita said. "Everyone. Let's leave the issue with the Core to Orion. We need to try and come up with a plan while he's gone."

"The Prime said his plan is to turn himself in," Ultra Magnus said. "I dislike it as much as you do, but we can't go against his wishes."

"We won't," Elita replied. "But if we can come up with something better, I'm sure we can persuade him to change his mind."

* * *

Orion approached the Allspark Temple. He knew mecha were staring at him. Many of them probably recognized him and wondered why he was here.

It was so different this time. Last time felt like a million vorns ago. Yoketron had still been online, and The Autobots hadn't suffered any heavy losses yet. Last time had been a chance to mend his bond with Elita.

This time he was here to beg for Primus's help, and his forgiveness and find out if there was anything he could do to save the Core.

He and Ironhide climbed the steps and entered through the open front doors. As soon as he stepped across the threshold a feeling of the Allspark settled over him, taking some of his anxiety away. He'd forgotten about that. Maybe it was his imagination, but the feeling was more somber than it had been last time.

A mech approached them. "Optimus Prime?" he said.

"Venture requested that I come," Orion said. "Will you let him know I'm here?"

"Done," the mech said. "He's on his way."

They waited.

Orion remembered walking the halls of this place with Yoketron. He remembered the old mech saying that he was tired, that once he finished training Orion, he'd like to return to the Allspark.

Orion wondered if he'd known he was going to offline and just hadn't wanted to say it.

He glanced over at Ironhide, who was looking uncharacteristically distant and thoughtful. He seemed to see Orion looking and shook his helm.

"I haven't been here… since I was sparked, I guess," he said. "I didn't realize it felt so… different in here."

Orion nodded.

Ironhide looked as if he were going to say something else, but then Venture came rushing in. "Prime," he said. "I sent for you decaorns ago."

"I apologize," Orion said. "I know I should have come sooner."

"Well, at least you came." Venture waved for them to follow and they did, through crystalline hallways and around corners until they got to a set of double doors leading into a small, empty room.

"You'll have to stay out here," Venture said to Ironhide.

Ironhide looked as if he'd like to protest, but Orion spoke before he could. "Please stay."

It wasn't as if he was going to be in any danger—at least not any danger Ironhide could help with. He followed Venture into the small room and the Temple Defender shut the doors behind them.

"Do we know how long the core has been…?"

"We do not," Venture said. "But Primus has been unusually quiet for a long time so it may have been more than a decavorn."

"Do you know what I'm supposed to do? I don't have any experience interacting with Primus. I'm not even really a Prime yet."

"I know," Venture said. "And no, I don't know what you should do. But I am certain that if Primus _can_ speak, he will speak to you. If I'm reading the signs correctly, you're not just meant to be a Prime. You are the prophesied Last of the Primes."

Orion looked down.

"Yoketron believed you were, and so does Alpha Trion. Are… are you?"

Orion took in a deep vent. "I don't know why Primus would choose me for that, but… I trust what Alpha Trion has said about it."

Venture frowned. "Perhaps speaking with Primus will help you find out for yourself," he said.

Orion nodded.

"Now," Venture said. "I know you don't have time to spare, so I will send you through a groundbridge. Going through a bridge to the center of the planet is dangerous, and there are some things you will need to do. The atmosphere is much denser at the Core, and so normally you would want to open all vents, valves, and so forth so that nothing implodes from the pressure change. Unfortunately, the atmosphere at the Core is currently toxic, so intaking any of it will not be healthy."

That… was a problem.

"You have two options. If you think your systems can handle it, you can pressurize and seal them while you're here, then keep your vents sealed while you are at the Core. Or, you can go through the bridge, let everything equalize, and then seal your vents and hope you didn't let too much of the toxin through them. Of course, you will probably intake toxin just by being there, no matter what you do."

"How… toxic is it?" Orion asked.

Venture looked away. "We don't really understand it, but somehow it affects our very life force, weakening all systems it comes in contact with. One of the mechs I brought with me when I went to visit the Core is offline. Of the others, most are predicted to make a full recovery, but many are still ill. I, myself, spent a decaorn resting before returning to my duties here. Of course, we didn't realize the danger until it was too late to seal our vents, and we were also there longer than we should have been. If you keep your conversation short, it shouldn't be too bad."

Orion stared.

"I apologize," Venture said. "I… didn't mention that before, did I?"

"It's all right," Orion said. "I need to go no matter the cost."

"Yes," Venture nodded gravely. "Let me know when you're ready."

Orion considered. He wasn't sure how much he would need to pressurize his systems. If he was going to intake some of the toxin in the atmosphere anyway, he'd rather not risk guessing at the core pressures. "I'm ready," he said.

The room fell silent for a moment, and then a groundbridge opened in front of them.

"Go through," Venture said. "Good luck. I will leave the groundbridge open, and if you do not return in fifteen breems, we will send someone in to retrieve you."

"You won't come with me?" Orion asked.

"I can't," Venture said. "I'm sorry. I'm still weak and I'd probably last about ten astroseconds down there before collapsing."

"How will I find the Core?"

"Primus will guide you there."

Orion took in a deep vent, trying to pretend he wasn't terrified, and stepped through the bridge.

He felt the sudden, crushing pressure of the atmosphere for a moment. Even after he let his internal pressure equalize, he could still feel it. As soon as he could, he sealed his vents. His sensors were picking up some unknown particulates in the atmosphere and flagging them as potentially hazardous.

He dismissed the warnings. He couldn't get distracted—he had to find the Core and then get out as soon as possible. In three breems, Megatron would kill another one of his soldiers.

Somehow, as Venture had promised, he knew where to go. It was a pull—like how the Key to Vector Sigma had felt since it had been stolen.

He stepped forward. The wide tunnel he was in was brightly illuminated by glowing cables, and far ahead, there was a brilliant light.

But there was something wrong with it.

He had never seen it before, so he didn't know what it looked like normally here, but he thought he could see the signs of Primus's illness. The glowing cables flickered irregularly, and sometimes plasmatic energon sparked from them. It wasn't the color he was expecting either. Energon could be anything from deep blue to aquamarine, but the light in here had a pale, almost purplish cast to it, with an occasional flash of sickly yellow-green.

Orion walked down the hall and out into a vast chamber. He could tell the toxicity was increasing, and he felt strangely dizzy.

The Core of Cybertron hung above him like a great optic. It flickered as well and Orion got the distinct sense that it ought to be brighter. A long walkway led out to it and the echoes of Orion's pedes sounded loud and harsh as he approached. He tried to walk more quietly, so as not to disturb the strong presence he felt in the chamber.

He stopped at the edge of the catwalk, unsure what to do, whether he should say something or just wait. He still felt dizzy, and his spark was starting to ache. He wasn't sure how much good sealing his vents had done.

He felt like speaking might somehow taint the sanctity of the place, but after several astroseconds, he didn't know what else to do. "Primus…" he said, and knelt. "Forgive me for intruding."

There was a deep humming noise, and the Core's light steadied and intensified until Orion had to turn down his optic sensitivity.

 _Sparkling._ A voice spoke directly into his mind. _You have come…_

Orion shuttered his optics. He didn't dare move. He could hardly believe he was actually speaking to Primus, but there was no mistaking the Great Creator's voice. "I… I'm sorry I didn't come sooner." Shame washed over him as he continued. "I should have been here decaorns ago, but… I neglected you until I needed your help."

Primus spoke gently. _Nevertheless, you have come, and your arrival is welcome._

Orion studied the catwalk beneath him, not sure whether it would be disrespectful to look up. "Is there anything I can do? Any way to stop your illness?"

 _No._

Orion's spark sank.

 _But I can still help you._ _Ask your questions._

For a few moments, Orion was at a loss. He didn't know where to start. "Are you going to…?"

 _I am fading._

"Why?" Orion wondered. He wasn't sure if he was speaking out loud anymore or not. "How? I mean… How is that possible?"

 _I can die, just as my creations can._

"But… what made you ill?"

 _The answer to that question is not your burden to bear._

Orion couldn't help himself. He looked up into the brilliant light of the Core. "Then… what should we do? We'll starve without you."

 _With the last pulsing of my spark, I will produce as much energon as possible, but it will not be enough. The time will come when you must seek it among the stars._

"I… you mean leave Cybertron?"

 _Yes._

Leave Cybertron… and seek energon among the stars. But… they would still run out, wouldn't they?

 _All is not lost,_ Primus said. _After I am extinguished, there will be a way to revive me._

"How?" Orion asked.

 _When the time comes, you will know. In the meantime, you must tell all of Cybertron that I am permanently offline._

Orion frowned. "But…"

 _You may tell Alpha Trion that I am merely dormant, but all else must believe I am gone._

If there was hope, why wouldn't Primus want everyone to know?

 _You may offer them hope by revealing that I have prepared a way for their survival, but they must have faith in what they do not know, and they_ cannot _know I still function._ _Will you do as I have asked?_

Orion hesitated. "I… yes, Primus."

Silence fell for a few astroseconds.

 _You have more questions for me._

Orion considered carefully. "What do I do about Megatron?" he asked. "Should I turn myself over to him in order to preserve the lives of my soldiers?"

 _No._

"Then… what should I do?"

Primus was silent for a moment before answering. _You must not allow Megatron to win the war._

"Hasn't he already won?"

 _If you allow Megatron to win the war, all will be lost. You will be lost. I will be lost. Megatron will be lost._

Shocked, Orion stared more intently into the light. "Does that mean he can be saved?"

 _He is also my creation,_ Primus said. _And I have guided his path as I have guided yours. He can be redeemed, but not if he wins._

"I… I feel more confused than before. You… meant for Megatron to become what he is?"

 _Truth is hard, sparkling. The war will bring much suffering, but you must trust that some orn, you will understand the meaning of it._

"All right," Orion said. "I do trust you. But how can I defeat Megatron? He has half of my army in captivity, and he'll kill them if I don't turn myself in. We can't attack him with the remainder of our forces, and any rescue attempt is too risky."

Silence.

"Primus?"

 _Peace Hunter, Greatest of the First, Omega Prime._

"Yes?"

 _Stand._

Orion got to his pedes. His spark ached and his dizziness was getting worse.

The light and energy from the core intensified. It was almost painful now. _Are you willing to accept the responsibilities of your calling and receive the Matrix of Leadership?_

What? Here? Now? He wasn't ready.

 _I will not force this upon you. Know only that you will not have another chance._

He hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to Elita—what if this broke their bond again?

Primus was silent—waiting patiently for him to answer.

He wished he could reach out to her, but he couldn't feel the bond amidst all this energy. She'd been so upset when he'd suggested looking for the Matrix early. Now Primus was offering it to him and he couldn't consult with her.

When he'd first accepted this calling, he hadn't known what he was giving up. He hadn't realized he would lose his bond with Elita.

Now he did know. This could hurt her—even kill her.

"I… haven't completed the trials," he said. "I'm not prepared."

 _This was foreseen, and intended,_ Primus said _. The Primal Trials are not sufficient to prepare you, Omega Prime, for the tasks set before you. But I have created for you a Final Trial._

If the other trials weren't hard enough…

 _If you succeed in my Trial, I will bestow upon you the Matrix of Leadership. You will have no further opportunity to receive it._

He wanted to ask if it would break his bond with Elita, but he was too afraid of the answer.

 _Will you attempt this Trial?_

What other options did he have? If he said no, he would have to go back and turn himself in, and Elita would die with him anyway.

This might be his one chance to save her.

To save everyone.

Cybertron needed him to be stronger than he was.

There was only one thing he could do.

"Yes," Orion said. "I will attempt it."

The light from the core faded and the world blurred around him.

* * *

"We can't attack without them knowing beforehand," Red Alert insisted. "Because there's still a groundbridge shield over the whole city-state. We'd have to come from outside. Honestly, we _should_ be trying to find somewhere better to hide."

"Maybe if we sent one mech in who could turn off the shield…" Mainspring said.

"Who? Jazz?" Red Alert demanded. "Pretty sure he's not feeling up to it. Did you _see_ him?"

Elita was barely paying attention to the conversation anymore.

Something was wrong with Orion—or maybe just the bond. His emotions felt muted and strange as if there was some sort of interference preventing her from feeling him clearly. She wasn't sure what to think about it, but it was really starting to worry her.

"…check on that? I haven't heard from Ratchet yet…"

"Hopefully, no news is good news."

"Does it even matter? We're all going to die anyway." Red Alert said.

"We're not all going to die," Chromia snapped. "Would you calm down?"

"Calm down?" Red Alert said. " _Calm down!?_ Megatron took Iacon! And then we _contacted_ him from this building. _This building!_ He's probably traced the comm. here already, and is sending a fleet of Seekers to bomb us out!"

Elita gasped.

It was like a wall had suddenly gone up, blocking her bond. She could still feel Orion faintly, but when she tried to reach out to him, she couldn't. What was going on?

"Elita?" Mainspring asked.

Everyone was staring at her.

"Excuse me," she said, and rushed from the room, out into the hall. She had to figure out what was going on. She tried comming him, but Orion's comm. was off.

Chromia came out into the hallway with her. "What's going on, Ellie?" she said quietly, glancing behind herself at the still-open door.

Elita took a deep vent and spoke quietly as well. "I… don't know. Something's wrong with…"

She got a comm. from Ironhide, and answered it immediately.

" _Hey,"_ he said. _"Quick question. Is Orion all right?"_

Elita hesitated.

" _What?"_

"I… I think so," she said.

"What?" Chromia asked.

Elita shook her helm and walked farther down the hall so the mecha in the room couldn't hear her. "Sorry. Um… there's something wrong with the bond. Some sort of interference. But I think he's all right. Why do you ask?"

" _Well, apparently the groundbridge he took to the Core has unexpectedly shut, and we can't open another one and we don't know why we can't, because there's not a shield up or anything it's just... Are you sure he's all right?"_

She wasn't. "He… doesn't feel hurt. But it's hard to tell. His comm's not working. It's almost like…"

Almost like he was in a trial, but ten times as strong.

" _Almost like what?"_

"Nothing," Elita said. "He must be… talking to Primus, or something?"

She heard Ironhide sigh over the comm.

"Hey, you two all right out here?"

She turned to see Moonracer standing by Chromia.

"Yes," Elita said. "I… think so? Something's happening with Orion, though… we're not sure what, though, or how long it will take."

"Okay," Moonracer said. "Because Megatron's trying to contact us again, so..."

Great.

"Excuse me," Elita said, and cut the comm. with Ironhide as she walked past her sisters. When she reached the meeting room, she nodded to Accord, who was standing by the computer connected to the projector. "I'll talk to him."

"Are you sure?" Accord asked. "We could just ignore him."

"No," Elita said. "I'll talk to him."

Accord nodded, and Elita turned to face the holoscreen as it lit up.

She stared into Megatron's bright red optics.

"Where is Orion?" he demanded.

"He's unavailable at the moment," Elita said. "I'm sorry, if you want to talk to him you'll have to wait."

Megatron glared. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, I can't say."

"Tell me where he is, or I'll kill _all_ of your soldiers, not just four per joor."

Elita crossed her arms. "We don't know where he is," she lied. "He left me in charge. Why don't you just tell me whatever you wanted to say to him?"

Megatron looked surprised, then he smirked. "Interesting. If you're telling the truth, he must have abandoned you. Poor Elita. How many times has he left you now?"

Elita tried not to let her uncertainty show on her faceplate. She wished she could still feel Orion over the bond. The faint emotions that were coming through were mostly anxiety and sorrow, which didn't bode well, but she couldn't do anything about it. She hadn't felt this alone since before the Allspark had healed their bond.

"Well," Megatron said. "I suppose if he's gone, then there's nothing you can exchange for your soldiers anymore, which means there's no reason for me to keep them around."

"Did you call us just to make threats?" Elita snapped. "We can't stop you."

"Oh, but you can," Megatron said. "If you're really in charge, then I'm willing to make a deal with you—an even better one. I will release your soldiers, _and_ return to Kaon with my army, in return for an unconditional surrender."

Elita shook her helm.

"Of course, you and the other commanders would have to come here to sign the document so it's official and binding."

She didn't want to play this game. But if she _had_ to, she might as well give it her best shot. "We will consider your generous offer," she said. "Is that all?"

"You have until the sun dome activates at zero joors," Megatron said. "After that, I will simply slaughter your soldiers."

Elita said nothing.

"Your cowardice won't save you," Megatron said. "Once there are no more Autobots in Iacon, I will burn Nova Cronum to the ground, and then follow you wherever you go, killing everyone who stands in my way until every mech and femme among you has been eradicated."

The screen went black.

"What are you _doing?"_ Red Alert demanded.

Elita looked at Prowl, who met her gaze.

"What's our best plan of attack?" she asked.

"No," Ultra Magnus said. "We cannot attack without the Prime's approval."

She rounded on him. "The Prime," she said. "Has gone to the Core of Cybertron. The groundbridge he took to get there has mysteriously closed, and they can't open another bridge for some reason. His comm. is off, and we don't know how long he will be unavailable. We don't have time to wait for his permission. Besides, do you think he'd want us to surrender? Do you think he would want us to let Megatron slaughter our soldiers? We don't have another option. Prowl?"

"Our best chance is to send mecha into Iacon to spread the word and try to rally support from the citizens," Prowl said. "Then take down the groundbridge shield and use the Nova Cronum groundbridges to attack the Iacon Academy where Megatron seems to be encamped. Our obstacles are the general communications block over the whole city-state, and the fact that the groundbridge shield generator will be heavily guarded and difficult to disable. As of now, we don't know where Soundwave is, so any attempt we make to rescue our soldiers or take down the shield will be risky."

"Megatron can still send messages, so it's not a complete block," Mainspring said. "I have mecha who can find ways past it."

"What about the groundbridge shield?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"I can help with that." Mirage suddenly materialized next to Red Alert who jumped out of his seat with an undignified squeak. "Unless Soundwave is specifically guarding it, I should be able to get to it. I'll need instructions for turning it off, though."

"I can probably find someone who knows what to do," Mainspring said.

"How long were you _standing_ there?" Moonracer said.

"Long enough," Mirage said. "I was waiting for someone to remember that I existed, but I gave up. _Don't_ smirk at me like you knew I was here all along," he glared across the room at Prowl, who flicked his doorwings dismissively.

"Prowl, do you think this will work?" Elita asked.

"I think Megatron knows he's backed us into a corner and he expects us to attack," Prowl said. "I think he knows where our base is. I think he has more mecha than we do and he knows we really don't have enough time to prepare. It's… twenty-eight joors in Iacon right now, isn't it? That gives us twelve joors at the most."

"But will this work?"

"I don't know," Prowl said. "But I'm not sure we have another choice. Megatron has underestimated us in the past. Perhaps we'll be able to outmaneuver him again."

That didn't sound very promising.

"Commander Elita One," Ultra Magnus said. "Have we really done everything we possibly can to reach Optimus? I agree that attacking may be our best option, but we should consult him first if at all possible."

"Yes," Elita said. "I know. And we will keep trying, and keep hoping to reach him, but for now we have to prepare to fight, because we won't have time if we wait."

Ultra Magnus nodded.

Elita commed Ironhide back, this time over an internal frequency.

He answered right away. _"What's going on?"_

" _We need you back here,"_ she said.

" _All right,"_ he said. _"I'll send Mainspring my coordinates."_

She cut the comm. again and shuttered her optics, trying to feel Orion amidst all the turmoil in her own spark.

She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to lead another battle. She didn't want to be alone.

But she wasn't really alone.

She had friends, and an army, and a sparkmate—he was there, whether or not she could feel him.

They were losing the war, yes, but they didn't have to lie down and accept their fate.

The Autobots had never taken a city-state back after Megatron had conquered it.

They had one last chance to change that.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Sad story: I've been reeeally busy with school this month AND I realized that the next several chapters of Revolution need more revision than I thought. I hate to do this so close to the end of the story, but I'm out of buffer chapters and I don't know if the next one will be ready to post next week, so I might have to skip a week or two. We'll see. I'll try to post next week, but I can't make any promises, especially since I want the climax to actually be good.

2\. Thanks for reading and reviewing and all that! Sorry about the potential update delay.


	57. Trading Sparks

The room was small, dimly-lit, and empty except for a berth that barely fit along the wall. It was also uncomfortably warm—even with his vents on high, Orion's engine was threatening to overheat.

What…?

The door opened and Orion turned to see Ironhide standing in the doorway, looking grim.

"We have to get back to base," he said. "Come on."

"Wait…?" Orion muttered, trying to figure out where he was. "What's going on? This is…" He remembered. "This is a trial, isn't it?"

To his surprise, Ironhide answered. "Yes. And Prowl just contacted me. He says we've learned something new about that weapon Megatron's been making threats about. It must be bad news because he wants to talk to you in person. In any case, we have to get back to base. Groundbridges are down but we can make it back in a joor or two if we drive. Come on."

"All right," Orion said.

The trial hadn't started with any sort of instructions, so he would have to discover its objective on his own. For now, he could probably just follow Ironhide and figure it out as he went.

He stepped out of the room and into a larger one—this one crammed with soldiers who saluted him as soon as he entered.

"All right, mechs," Ironhide said. "We need to get back to base as quickly as possible. Don't stop for anything, and make sure nothing comes near the Prime. I'll lead the way."

Orion could hear something now, fading in as if the world outside was coming into existence. It was strange, like a lucid dream.

He recognized the sounds of battle—blaster fire and explosions and shouting.

Ironhide led the way out of the building, and Orion took in a deep vent and followed. He wasn't sure how far they were from the base his friend had spoken of, but…

He froze, staring at the terrible scene of destruction around him.

A few broken buildings and hills of rubble remained of what must once have been a thriving sector. Heat rose in heavy waves from the desolate landscape, and the few structures remaining were interspersed by smoking orange pools of melted metal. A smelting field…?

And all around were groups of mecha fighting, dying, pushing each other into the molten pits, screaming as they were melted down to nothing. It was surreal—horrible.

"Optimus!" Ironhide shouted. "Transform! We're going!"

Right.

Orion transformed and took up a place in the center of the formation as they drove through the chaos.

Where were they? There were no active or even dormant smelting fields in populated areas. He checked his magnetic locator, almost afraid to find out what city-state had met this terrible fate.

His spark sank.

They were driving toward the location Red Alert had chosen for the new base he was building, which was only thirty klicks away.

This was Iacon.

* * *

Getting into the central sector of Iacon was a little harder than Mirage had anticipated. They had destroyed almost every street along the border, dropping the raised roads down into the chasms below. It was an effective way to prevent an army from attacking them on pede. No one could get past the border, except for seekers, who could fly over.

But they couldn't destroy everything, and eventually, Mirage found an intact road on one of the lower levels.

Then he made his way back up to the surface and drove toward the very center of the city-state. Rallying the mecha in the outer sectors was going well, so he heard. They weren't all Autobot supporters, but most of them didn't want Megatron ruling their city.

The warlord had been a bit foolish to take Iacon, actually. He'd surrounded himself with enemies, and the entirety of the city-state was far too large for his army to occupy. It had been easier for him in Tesarus and Tarn where significant portions of the population sympathized with the Decepticons.

Mirage had a lot to do. He had to find out where Megatron was keeping their soldiers, and sneak into enforcement headquarters, all without being discovered by Soundwave. And to do either of those things, he needed to get to the center of the sector.

He took what he thought was the fastest route, but pulled up short when he realized the familiar road he'd been driving down ended in a pile of rubble.

Well, that was inconvenient.

He turned around and went back, then tried a few streets to the north, but once again, his way was blocked by a wall of twisted, shattered metal. What the pit had they knocked over and how long did this stretch? Maybe climbing it would be faster than going around. He approached the curved wall a little reluctantly, looking fruitlessly for good handholds. It seemed like it had once been cylindrical, whatever it was.

Oh.

Spark pulsing hard, he backed away. Then, his mission temporarily forgotten, he entered the nearest tall building and made his way to the roof.

Once there, he looked out over the city to see, not wanting it to be true, but at least wanting to know.

The skyline was clear—clearer than it had been since the rise of the noble class. The towers were gone—all of them. He could see the wreckage of some nearby. They'd been pulled down and now they lay on their sides, spread out like the limbs of some fallen, many-legged creature, twisted and broken in death.

Gone.

It was gone. He'd lived his entire life in that sky, up there where you could see the sun eternally circling as the planet rotated.

He couldn't comprehend this. He could understand Megatron destroying _his_ tower. He had been almost resigned to that when they'd evacuated.

But this… this…

He shouldn't have been surprised. This was Megatron. Megatron, who slaughtered every official from High Councils to public school administration boards. This was probably another way of signifying the overthrow of oppression.

They had been so beautiful, so elegant, so irreplaceable. Those towers weren't a symbol of oppression, they were a symbol of the city itself, a reminder of vorns and mecha long gone.

And there had been mecha in those towers—mecha who didn't pay attention to politics, mecha who wouldn't have had time to escape. When he'd started letting the Autobots stay at his home, he'd been ostracized by most of his peers, but he'd understood they were just conforming to the rules of the games. Some of them were corrupt, yes, and all of them spoiled and ignorant of the world's hardships, but they weren't all evil. There had been good towerlings too, good mecha who'd never had a chance to show it because of the way they'd been raised.

Anger welled up inside of him at the injustice of it all. The war had claimed so many things already. Vos, the towers, and thousands of sparks, all so Megatron could "liberate" the masses. And maybe, maybe if he was actually _liberating_ anyone, Mirage wouldn't hate him so much, but he'd been to Kaon and Tarn and Tesarus and he knew things weren't better there than they were before the Decepticon take-over.

Megatron wasn't lifting anyone up, he was just pulling them down to his level, destroying ancient landmarks, bringing grief and loss to innocent mecha on both sides, filling the world with fear and hatred.

Mirage wanted to go find him, hunt him down, and murder him, but that would never work, not when he kept Soundwave so close. The best way to fight him would be to complete his tasks—to find the Autobot captives, and then bring down that groundbridge shield so they could attack.

It was hard—harder than he'd expected—to leave that rooftop and the emotions twisting his core. But he did it and he pushed the horror of seeing his home destroyed from his processor so he could focus on getting what was left of it back.

* * *

All around them, mecha fought and offlined. Orion saw soldiers wearing the red insignia of Autobots, and others bearing a different, purple symbol.

And he was driving past them, abandoning each one as he went.

He could barely stand it. Each group of soldiers was almost evenly matched against their adversaries. He knew if he called a halt, his contingent of twenty could save so many by joining forces with them.

But he couldn't stop.

This was like the fifth trial. He had to reach the beacon, except that this time it wasn't a beacon. It was some information about Megatron and a weapon or something like that.

A high-pitched scream drew his attention away from nearby fights to two small figures who were being chased by a mech wearing a purple insignia.

Younglings.

"Stop!" Orion said, and Ironhide and the others skidded to a stop around him as he braked hard.

"What?" Ironhide said. "Why?"

"Those younglings," Orion said. "See them?"

"We don't have time!" Ironhide said.

Orion transformed and broke formation, running to the side. It wouldn't take more than a breem to rescue them. What difference did a breem make?

Ironhide shouted at him, chasing after him, but he didn't care.

The younglings were about to reach the edge of one of the smelting pools.

The mech chasing them was going to catch them—Orion was too late.

All he could do was watch as the large mech closed the distance. Then, at the last moment, the younglings jumped out over the pool…

And landed on a plate of metal that had just broken free and was floating away from the edge.

The mech pursuing the younglings reached for them, but they were already too far away. He snarled and raised his gun. "You little scraplets!"

"Stop!" Orion shouted, and the mech turned. His optics widened when he saw Orion and he spun and fled. Orion let him go, shifting his attention to the younglings again. He was too close to the molten metal—his engine was overheating, and he could feel his paint blistering.

"Help!" the larger youngling called weakly. "Please!"

"Optimus!" Ironhide caught up to him. "We—"

"They're younglings!" Orion rounded on him.

Ironhide looked guilty.

"Help me get them off of there." He knelt by the edge of the smelting pit, wincing as the heat burned his legs, and held his hand out as far as he could. "Here! Can you reach?"

The larger youngling reached out, but they were much too far away, and the chunk of metal they were floating on was drifting even farther, melting as it went.

"Here," Ironhide pulled a rope out of subspace. "Catch this!"

The end of the rope hit the platform, and both mechlings grabbed onto it, but the middle sagged into the smelting pit, hissing as it melted.

Orion and Ironhide pulled hard on the rope, bringing the floating platform back toward the edge and almost dragging the younglings off of it. The rope broke, but momentum brought the younglings close enough to reach, and Orion pulled them both to safety, carrying them away from the pool and setting them down where the ground was cooler.

They were both Praxian, which seemed unusual to Orion, since he was certain this was Iacon. The larger one was teal and dark gray, and the smaller one was black and yellow with bright blue optics.

"Thank you," the teal and gray mechling whispered.

"Okay," Ironhide said. "Now, let's go."

"No," Orion replied. "We have to get them to safety. This place is crawling with soldiers and they won't survive in this heat."

Ironhide heaved a sigh. "We can take them with us," he said. "But it won't be that much safer for them, and there'll be no good place to drop them off along the way."

The yellow and black youngling clung to his larger friend's arm, trembling.

"It's okay," the older one said. "We'll be all right."

Orion shook his helm. "Where's the nearest safe place?"

"Out of our way," Ironhide said.

"Send me the coordinates."

Ironhide sighed.

"I'll catch up with you," Orion said. "I know where the base is and I'll meet you there."

"No. Let's just send someone else with them," Ironhide said, gesturing to where their soldiers were waiting for them, still in their alt modes.

Orion hesitated.

The sudden sound of seeker engines split the atmosphere

"Pit!" Ironhide shouted. "Get down!" He grabbed the two younglings and dropped to his knees, sheltering them with his frame. Orion dropped to the ground too, shuttering his optics as the seekers flew overhelm.

Missiles rained from the sky, crashing into the ground nearby, shaking the world.

Screaming, heat, shattering metal…

Then as suddenly as they had appeared, the seekers were gone, and everything was quiet.

Orion got to his pedes, surprised to find himself unhurt, and looked around.

He froze. The street where his soldiers had been was gone—replaced by a river of fiery orange and yellow. He watched as the last few hands and helms sank below the molten surface.

The ground beneath his pedes shook, and the river burst its banks and spread toward him as the ground sank.

This whole neighborhood was about to be absorbed by the smelting field.

"Ironhide, we should…" he trailed off as he turned to see his friend still crouched over the younglings. His back was a mess of metal shards and energon.

"Ironhide!" Orion rushed over and knelt by his friend, gently pulling him off of the younglings who he'd been sheltering.

Ironhide stared at him out of unfocused optics. "What…"

"Ironhide! We have to go, the ground's about to melt beneath us."

He could feel the temperature increasing.

Ironhide coughed, broken frame shaking.

"Ironhide!"

"Go," Ironhide gasped, making an obvious effort to control his coughing fit. "Take the… younglings west… there's a place… not destroyed… to the base… need you…."

"I'm not going to leave you here," Orion said.

Ironhide's optics shut and he mumbled something.

"What?"

"Tell… Chromia I'm sorry,"

"No!"

Ironhide's optics went dark, and in the sudden, oppressive silence, Orion heard his spark implode.

Then the ground shook again, and the sounds of tearing metal and bubbling magma returned.

The smaller, black and yellow youngling let out a spark-broken wail and Orion turned to see the larger one trying to comfort him.

Orion had to get them to safety before it was too late.

Primus, those soldiers... and Ironhide...

No, wait, this was a trial. None of this was real.

Ironhide was all right, and when Orion finished the trial he could go back and see him. Everything would be fine.

If this trial was anything like the fifth, though… was he supposed to leave these younglings behind and focus on stopping Megatron instead?

They weren't real, any more than Ironhide was really dead.

But he'd already missed his chance to take the fast route. He transformed.

"Get in," he opened one of his doors, and the larger youngling climbed in, dragging his still-weeping friend behind him.

Orion drove west—the wrong direction if he wanted to reach the base. But Ironhide had told him to go that way. Maybe he'd find somewhere safe to put the younglings.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was leaving his friend's broken frame behind. Even though he knew it was a trial, he couldn't help feeling sick and shaken.

* * *

Blaster had thought getting to Nova Cronum would be the hardest part. Rewind had warned him that it could take several orns to go by mass transit, so he'd needed to get a groundbridge.

Sneaking into the station wouldn't have been too hard, except that he had to bring his symbiots. Rewind and Steeljaw could both sneak pretty well, but the other two…

As it was, they'd barely made it in without being seen, and then someone _had_ seen them going through the bridge, and they'd almost been caught on the Nova Cronum side.

They'd made though, and they were out into the city now.

But they couldn't find the Autobots.

Blaster stopped at the end of a street and looked behind. "Ramhorn, hurry up," he said.

Eject flopped dramatically onto the ground. "Can we stop here?" he said. _I'm so tired…_

"Not in the middle of the street," Steeljaw told him, sitting and delicately curling his tail around his paws. "We need to find the Autobots first anyway." _At the very least, we need to find shelter before the off-cycle._

Blaster looked up at the pink and gray sky. "I think dusk is longer here than in Praxus," he said. "We still have time."

They knew the Autobots were camped near a groundbridge station, because they'd seen it on a holo-screen that was displaying the news. But they didn't know where the groundbridge station was. Blaster had expanded his range and pulled the locations of several groundbridge stations from mecha's processors, but the two they'd visited so far had turned out to be the wrong ones.

And if the next one was also the wrong place, they were going to have to stop somewhere for the off-cycle, and look more the next orn.

Ramhorn finally trudged up behind him and half-sparkedly nudged Blaster's heel with his horn.

He was really tired too. They all were.

Blaster sighed. "Let's keep going."

"Can I ride on your shoulder?" Eject asked. "My pedes hurt."

"Okay," Blaster said, and knelt so the little mech could climb up to his shoulder more easily. "Rewind, you want a ride too?"

"I'm all right," Rewind said. _I don't want to make him carry me…_

"I know you're tired," Blaster said. "Come on, you're not that heavy."

Rewind felt guilty, but let Blaster pick him up.

"What about me?" Ramhorn whined.

"Hold on," Blaster said. Once Rewind was situated on his other shoulder, he turned to pick Ramhorn up too. Ramhorn was significantly heavier than the mech-shaped symbiots, but carrying him would be faster than trying to force him to walk.

Steeljaw shot him a look of disapproval. _You're going to wear yourself out in breems. You should make them walk, or at least take turns._

"I'll be fine," Blaster said as he walked. "We'll just go to the next groundbridge station and then if it's the wrong place, we'll find somewhere to stay for the off-cycle."

Steeljaw still didn't like it. "Well, I'm not letting you carry me," he said.

"That's good," Blaster replied. "I don't know if I _could_ carry you."

Steeljaw padded along beside him. He was tired too, of course, and his pedes hurt at least as much as Eject's, but he was still as alert as ever.

Within a breem, Ramhorn was recharging in Blaster's arms, and Eject was nodding off as well, curled up on his shoulder, clinging to his plating.

Rewind was thinking, though. He was worried—almost as worried as Keepsake and Cam probably were. He didn't want to say anything, but he didn't think Blaster should join the Autobots. He'd never been in a war, but he knew mecha who had. His previous owner, the last telepath, had lost almost all of his friends in the Quintesson wars.

"This'll be different," Blaster tried to reassure him. "They probably won't have me fighting anyone. Since I can read minds, I'll probably just be a spy or something. I'll get to sneak around and listen to mecha's secrets and then tell the Autobots."

"You shouldn't say things like that when we're out in the middle of the road." Steeljaw glared suspiciously at a group of mecha across the street.

"They can't hear us," Blaster said, pushing his range out to check, just in case. "We're fine."

"Who can't hear us?" Eject mumbled.

"You're going to fall off my shoulder if you start recharging," Blaster said.

"Sorry," Eject sat up.

"It's not even the off-cycle."

"It's not even the off-cycle in _Praxus,_ " Rewind added. "Come on, Eject, just a little longer."

Eject yawned and then climbed up to kneel on top of Blaster's helm. He looked around with wide optics. "Where are we?"

"About two blocks from where we were when you got on Blaster's shoulder," Steeljaw said irritably.

"Uggghhh," Eject said. "How much longer?"

"I don't know," Blaster said. "Why don't we come up with something to talk about on the way? Maybe that'll speed things up. We're in Nova Cronum. Do they have a lobbing team?"

 _Primus, no,_ Rewind thought. _Don't start him._

"Nova Cronum's lobbing team is scrap," Eject said. "They haven't won the world championship for more than three hundred vorns. They have a decent cube team, though…" Eject rambled on, much to the annoyance of Steeljaw and Rewind, who were both tired of his obsessions.

It distracted Rewind from his worries, though, and Steeljaw from his exhaustion.

Blaster trudged on, tuning out Eject and focusing on his goal. He had to get to the Autobots and offer to help them. He knew it might be dangerous, and he wasn't even sure what he could do at this point, but he had to try.

* * *

The heat slowly disappeared as Orion drove toward the buildings he could see in the distance, and the sounds of fighting faded to quiet. The burning red haze in the atmosphere made him think of the sky in Tagan Heights when he'd gone to visit after they'd defeated the Decepticons there.

Smoke, ashes, rust—illuminated from behind by the low-set Iacon sun.

The smaller youngling's weeping faded to the occasional, quiet sob. The larger one was quiet as they drove.

"Are you two all right?" Orion asked, realizing he should probably check. "Did either of you get hurt?"

"We're both okay, I think," the older mech replied. "Thank you for saving us. Who… who _are_ you?"

Orion drove in silence for a few astroseconds before answering. "My designation is Orion," he said.

"Oh," the mech replied. "Orion Pax?"

"Yes," Orion said. "I don't know you, do I?"

"No," the youngling said. "But I was… I've heard of you."

"What are your designations?" Orion asked.

"I'm Lumos," the older one said.

"And your friend?"

"I don't know. He doesn't talk."

There was a soft humming noise, which Orion assumed was the smaller mechling.

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out. "You don't happen to know what I'm supposed to do in this trial, do you?" he said. It was worth a shot.

The youngling didn't seem confused by the question. "I'm not sure," he said. "But… I'm grateful that you helped us, even if it's not what you were supposed to do."

"You're very welcome," Orion said. "I couldn't leave you to be killed, even if you're just meant to distract me from my purpose here."

"If it helps…" the youngling said. "My mech creator… He's… always saying younglings are the future. That we'll be the ones to fix Cybertron. To heal it."

"He sounds wise." Orion said.

"He is," the youngling replied. "But… I don't think that my friend and I specifically could fix or heal anything right now, so maybe..."

"No, you're right," Orion said. "Once we get to those buildings, I'm going to drop you off. And then you should stay where it's safe. Keep each other alive. Some orn, once the war's over, you can start working on healing Cybertron. All right?"

The older mech was silent, but the little black and yellow one hummed determinedly.

Orion tried to drive faster, but it seemed to take forever to reach the distant buildings. Every breem that ticked by was a breem closer to failing this trial. And outside the trial, Megatron would kill one of his soldiers every ten breems. How many had died already?

He didn't want to know.

Eventually, they reached the safety of a neighborhood that hadn't been destroyed yet. It was eerily quiet, but Orion was glad about that because it meant—hopefully—that the younglings wouldn't run into any trouble. He stopped and opened his door to let them out. They climbed out onto the street and he stayed in his alt mode.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

Lumos took his small friend's hand. "Yes," he said. "We'll be safe now. Thank you again."

"You're very welcome, both of you," Orion said. "I have to go, but if you ever need help in the future, come find me."

"We will," Lumos said. "Good luck on the trial."

Orion couldn't waste any more time. He drove away, heading toward the place the Autobot base must be, hoping that meeting with Prowl wasn't _that_ urgent.

* * *

Megatron paced restlessly across the crystal tiles in the classroom auditorium he'd decided to use for a temporary throne room. I sat to the side, waiting for him to speak—already knowing what he wanted to talk about.

 _I thought I'd have Orion beaten already, but he's disappeared and I have to deal with that femme instead… Not to mention Prowl… We have this one last chance to pull a decisive win out of this otherwise the whole Iacon campaign will be nothing more than an embarrassment._

He stopped, and turned to look at me. "They're going to attack us, aren't they?"

I shrugged.

"I can feel it," he said. "Elita's not like Orion. She's bold enough to go on the offensive. Our prisoners are getting restless too—they've already almost broken out twice, and if I start slaughtering them, I'll have to employ all of our forces here to do so, or pull in more troops from Tarn or Tesarus, which will be difficult since we took out all the roads to the central sector and we can't lower the groundbridge shield… And I want to be back in Kaon as soon as possible, to sort out what I'm going to do with Blackangle… I don't have time for a prolonged fight."

I nodded.

"I have to kill them—not the soldiers, the commanders. They can replace their infantry with new idiots from all over, but they can't replace Prowl. We have to kill _him_ during this battle."

I looked away.

"You know what I need you to do."

"I know," I said.

"You have their location?"

I nodded, nervous.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you. I know it bothers you."

He was right about that. And even if I was all right with the mission, it was dangerous. "It may not work," I said. "Their army is camped by-y their base." I could get past the army without trouble, but it would be harder to get past Red Alert without letting him sound some sort of alarm.

Megatron frowned. _He's right, it's a risk… On the other hand…_ He smirked. "So we'll let them attack," he said. "We'll wait for them. Their soldiers will come here, and when they do, they'll leave their temporary headquarters unprotected. Some of the more dangerous commanders like Ironhide will probably be here too."

"Then I won't be he-ere to help with the battle."

"We won't need you here," Megatron said. "Not once your task is complete." _With Prowl dead, they can't win. Not even if they drive me out this orn. I will keep the upper hand for the rest of the war. And surely, surely Soundwave won't fail me._

One murder. I could do that. I could pull my range in at the last moment, then check afterward to make sure he was really dead.

"Go," Megatron said. "I want you in place by the time they attack.

I walked off the stage and out of the auditorium. I could fly to Nova Cronum—it wouldn't take long, and I needed time to plan. Prowl was smart—he wouldn't be easy to kill.

I transformed and rose above Iacon, trying to come up with a strategy without thinking too hard about what I'd been asked to do. Even after all the death I'd seen and felt now, inflicting it myself was the opposite of appealing—especially inflicting it on someone I knew.

But maybe I could think of it as a mercy. The sides were too evenly matched now. The faster the Autobots lost, the fewer would die in the long run. By taking one life, I could save millions. Once the Autobots were defeated and the Councils were destroyed, we would build up a new government—a better one.

Saving the world was worth one murder.

* * *

Orion drove through the silent city toward the base.

Or, at least toward the coordinates he thought the base was at. He wasn't sure, after all. Maybe he should ask someone.

He considered for half a breem and then commed Prowl.

The Praxian answered quickly. _"Optimus,"_ he said. _"What's going on? Where… Primus, how did you get so far off course?"_

" _There were some younglings,"_ Orion said. _"I'm sorry, I couldn't just leave them."_

" _Is Ironhide with you? We've lost his tracker, and he's not answering his comm."_

" _He's… offline,"_ Orion said.

It hurt to say it, even though Orion knew it wasn't true.

The very first thing he'd do when he finished this trial was find Ironhide, just to make sure. It had been so real…

Prowl was silent.

" _Prowl?"_

" _Sorry…"_ Prowl said. _"Optimus, we need you here ten breems ago. The Decepticons are attacking our base now. We can hold out as long as we need to, but the sooner you get here, the better. There's something we have to talk about."_

" _All right,"_ Orion said.

 _"_ _Did you lose the soldiers that were with you and Ironhide?"_

" _Yes,"_ Orion said. _"They're gone, all of them."_

" _Pit,"_ Prowl said. _"Then getting you to base is going to be tricky. I'll try to get some mecha through the lines to meet you and escort you here. Keep driving toward the base, and I'll let you know when I've got a plan."_

" _I will_ _,"_ Orion said. _"Oh, and I commed you to confirm the coordinates for the base. I want to make sure I'm going in the right direction."_

Prowl sent him the coordinates for the exact location he'd expected the base to be.

" _Thank you."_

" _Keeping a clear path open for you will cost lives, so come as quickly as possible_ _."_

" _Understood,"_ Orion said, and Prowl cut the comm.

He couldn't afford to get distracted again. He had to save his friends. He could feel Elita over the bond, he realized. He wasn't sure if it was the real Elita, or the one in the trial, but she was afraid, and angry. He could tell, somehow, that she was fighting, so he didn't try to comm. her for fear of distracting her.

The sector full of undamaged buildings ended, replaced by a scarred, broken neighborhood where most of the buildings had been reduced to rubble.

Orion had to swerve around chunks of buildings and pick his way carefully down the road. Eventually, it got to the point where running was faster than driving, so he transformed and pounded down the empty street.

"Who's there?" a deep voice called from somewhere to his left.

Orion didn't stop. He couldn't waste time.

"Help, please!" the voice said.

Orion slowed.

He knew any delay would cost Autobot sparks. But did that really mean he should abandon this unknown mech to his fate?

He could spare half a breem to help someone, couldn't he?

"Hello?" he said, and walked cautiously toward the voice. "Where are you?"

"Here," the mech said. "Over here..."

Orion jogged around a pile of rubble, and froze.

A bulky green seeker lay trapped beneath a collapsed wall, pinned on his back.

He looked up at Orion and the hope in his optics faded to a bitter resignation.

"Prime," he said.

Orion approached, ignoring the mech's glare. "I might be able to lift this. Are you hurt or just trapped?"

"Don't," the seeker growled. "I'd rather starve here than accept help from an Autobot."

Orion hesitated.

"I only ask that you do me the courtesy of an enemy and end my suffering."

"No," Orion grabbed the wall and heaved upward. "I don't have time to argue, and I'm not going to kill you or leave you here to starve."

He felt the wall shift and pulled harder.

The seeker lay, glaring at him for another astrosecond before deciding to help. Together, they were able to lift the wall enough for the seeker to crawl out from under it.

"There," Orion let the wall crash back down. "I'm afraid I can't help you get back to—ahhh!"

He cried out as the seeker jumped him from behind, and pain exploded across his back. Orion shook his attacker off and reached behind himself to find a knife buried to the hilt in his shoulder.

The seeker got back to his pedes, and pulled another knife from subspace. One of his wings was crumpled, and one of his legs looked like it had been badly crushed as well, but there was a grim determination in his optics.

"Stop," Orion said, letting go of the knife hilt and holding his hands in front of him. "I don't want to fight you. I just saved your life, don't—"

"I didn't ask you to save me, Prime," the seeker said. "I owe you no debt."

Orion didn't have time to fight, but the mech jumped at him again, and he couldn't get out of the way fast enough.

He deflected the seeker's knife thrust but was shoved back into the part of the wall that was still standing. The jarring pain of the knife in his shoulder and the frustration of this new delay sparked anger in his core.

He pushed back, throwing the seeker off again, but the mech stumbled back to his pedes and attacked a third time.

This time, Orion caught the knife, and they struggled over it briefly before Orion wrested it from his opponent's hands and sent the seeker to the ground yet again.

"Stop fighting," he said. "We don't have to be enemies. We never had to be enemies."

The seeker got to his hands and knees, venting hard.

Orion turned and walked away, reaching again for the knife in his shoulder. The hilt was slick with energon now.

"Don't walk away from me, Prime!" The seeker roared behind him, and he spun, holding up the second knife he'd taken from the mech to warn him off.

The mech either didn't see it or didn't care. He tackled Orion, knocking him over. The knife in Orion's shoulder hit the ground and the combined weight of two mechs was enough to push it even deeper. Orion screamed and the pain overwhelmed him for a moment.

Then he felt energon running down his hand and looked to see that the blade he'd been holding had buried itself deep into the seeker's chassis.

The mech's optics were dark, and his faceplate was slack.

Orion had killed him.

He scrambled out from beneath the mech and got to his pedes, venting hard. His hands and front were covered in the seeker's energon.

He was shaking.

Primus… he'd killed someone…

Elita commed him over an external frequency. _"What's wrong?"_ she demanded. _"You're hurt! What happened?"_

"I… ran into a seeker," Orion said. "I'm all right, though."

A warning popped up in his processor. The obstruction in his shoulder would make it impossible to transform.

He would have to run, even if the roads got better.

He'd more than tripled the time it would take to get to the base.

" _Are you sure?"_

"Yes," Orion said, trying to send comfort over the bond, knowing she'd still be able to feel his injury.

He ran, gritting his denta against the pain.

Every time one of his pedes hit the road, it felt like he was being stabbed all over again.

" _Orion?"_ she said, with a sob in her voice.

"Yes?"

" _Chromia… she's gone. She just… stopped fighting."_

Orion let his own sorrow mingle with hers. "Ironhide's offline too,"he said.

" _I… I figured…"_

"It's all right," he said, trying to comfort her. "It's just a trial. It's going to be all right."

" _Is it, though?"_ she replied.

A deep uneasiness settled in his spark. "Stay safe," he said. "I'm coming as quickly as I can."

" _Okay,"_ she said. _"I'll see you soon, then. I… have to focus on the battle. Good luck."_

She cut the comm.

Almost immediately after that, Prowl commed him again.

" _Prowl,"_ Orion said. _"I'm injured and I can't transform. It might take me joors to get there at this rate."_

" _Don't worry,"_ Prowl said. _"Our fastest transport is on his way. He'll meet up with you in five breems or less, and have you back here in just over half a joor."_

Orion pushed himself up a sloping street to the top of a hill, and stopped for a moment.

He could see the fighting now, in the distance. Flashes of light, smoke, and the far-off thunder of explosions.

The road smoothed out in front of him, but he still couldn't drive, so he ran—faster on the downhill side, but still not nearly fast enough.

He couldn't shake the awful feeling that no matter what he did, he was going to be too late.

* * *

Everything was ready. They'd made contact with mecha in all sectors of the city. With the owner's permission, they'd moved temporarily to the groundbridge station which had better security and was easier to defend. Mirage had reached enforcement headquarters and was prepared to shut down the groundbridge shield on her signal. They'd figured out a way around the comm. block the Decepticons had put over Iacon Central. They had mecha in place to rescue the Autobot soldiers.

They had a plan.

They were just waiting for her to give the order.

She had wanted to wait until they could talk to Orion again, but he was still out of touch. She still couldn't even feel him over the bond. She knew he wasn't dead, but she was worried. It had been more than two joors since he'd gone to talk to Primus. Why would Primus need to talk to him for two joors?

Someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Chromia standing over her.

She took in a deep vent and let it out.

"Hey," Chromia said. "Can you do something for me?"

"What?" Elita said.

"Order Ironhide to bring me with him."

Elita frowned.

"He says he outranks me so he can force me to stay behind, but he doesn't outrank you, since Orion left you in charge when he abandoned us. Tell him I'm allowed to go with him. I'm not letting him put his life on the line again without me, especially when it's my own home we'll be fighting for."

Elita sighed. She didn't want to get mixed up in Chromia's relationship problems, and she didn't want her sister in danger either.

On the other hand…

Prowl came in through the door. "Commander Elita," he said. "We just received word that Megatron has called in some soldiers from Tarn. They've bridged just outside Iacon and are making their way toward the center of the city-state. We can't wait much longer. If they make it to the central sector, before we attack, our chance of success falls below fifty percent."

"What's our chance now?" Chromia asked.

"Somewhere around sixty-five or seventy percent," Prowl said. "Still not ideal. It depends on whether and how Megatron's prepared for us. Even if we win, it'll be at a heavy cost."

Elita looked down.

The other option was to surrender. And the cost of _that_ might be even heavier in the long run.

"Elita?" Prowl said. "We can't wait any longer. Orion's not going to be back in time."

"I know," she said.

Despite telling herself he must know what he was doing, it _did_ feel like Orion had abandoned them. She tried comming him one more time, and reaching as hard as she could over the bond, but his comm. was still off, and the bond was still so distant. There was _something,_ though, coming through. Not Orion—a different sort of feeling.

She realized it might be Primus, and drew away from it, uncertain.

The feeling faded, leaving her with an inexplicable and acute longing for home.

"What?" Chromia asked.

"Prowl's right," Elita said. "We have to do this, and we have to do it now. You're right too… we need everyone who's willing to fight." She stood up from the chair she was sitting in. "I'm going too."

"But…" Prowl said.

"No," Elita told him. "I'm in charge, and I'm going to go fight for my home. You don't need me here to direct things."

"If you die…" Prowl said. "You know we'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Then you'd better make sure we win this fight, so I survive," she told him. "Spread the word. Anyone who wants to join the battle may do so—non-combatants included. We're taking Iacon back, at whatever cost."

Prowl, thankfully, didn't argue further. Ironhide might be another matter, but Elita wouldn't let him talk her out of it. She'd fought in a battle before, and she'd hated it, but it was better than staying behind and letting other mecha offline for her.

She opened a group comm. with all of the commanders. _"Are our soldiers ready to bridge to Iacon?"_ she asked.

" _Everyone's ready,"_ Chromia replied.

" _Mainspring, tell Mirage to take down the groundbridge shield now."_ Elita said, then followed her sister into another room where a group of soldiers were waiting by an inactive groundbridge.

They would use every single bridge in the station. They needed to get their soldiers in as fast as possible so they could put the shield up again and prevent Megatron from bringing in reinforcements. Once they were in Iacon, they would trap themselves in Iacon.

There would be no retreat this time.

Win or lose, this would be the end.

* * *

Notes:

1\. Hey, I'm back. Told you it would only be a week or two. :)

2\. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	58. Iacon

Smoke rose from the central sector of Iacon. In the perpetual twilight of the off-cycle, it colored the sky a dark, violent red.

A newborn silence occupied the streets. Decepticon soldiers had been called back from their looting and burning to positions defending their camp at the Academy, and Iacon Central's remaining civilians were hiding or waiting.

Then, exactly one joor before dawn, the bright hum and harsh light of groundbridges broke the crimson hush—thousands of pedes pounded the roads and walkways, exiting bridges and buildings, banding together. In breems, the empty streets surrounding the enforcement headquarters and the nearby Iacon Academy were filled.

Then groundbridges closed, and soldiers and civilians marched on the mech who had taken their home from them.

* * *

Orion slowed to a stop as the transport reached him. The mech's doors opened and soldiers poured out.

One approached him, saluting.

"Sir. We're here to escort you safely to base. Please enter the transport."

"Thank you," Orion said, and climbed in, careful of his injured shoulder. The inside reminded him of Landquake's interior, though it wasn't quite the same.

He sat down along the side, and a mech with a medic's badge under his Autobot insignia came to work on his injury.

All other mecha exited the transport, and then Orion felt the vehicle maneuvering to drive back toward the fighting.

He bore it patiently as the medic pried the knife from the back of his shoulder.

Then he listened as they drew nearer to the battle.

Mecha shouted, screamed… Orion wished he could help, but he needed to get to base. The transport slowed and Orion could hear plasma fire and crashing just outside. Something bumped into the vehicle, jostling Orion. The medic muttered a few curses and redoubled his efforts on repairing Orion's shoulder.

"Sorry," the ambient voice of the transport said.

"It's all right," Orion said. "What's happening?"

"We couldn't avoid a skirmish," the transport explained. "The Decepticons saw us leave, and were ready for us on the way back in. We'll break through in a few astroseconds, but we've lost about half of the escort."

Orion looked down. More mecha offlining for him…

A moment later, the transport accelerated again and the noise outside decreased.

"There," the medic said a breem later. "That's about all I can do now, but you should get to the medbay as soon as you can, sir."

"Thank you," Orion said.

"Atlas, can you drop me off in about ten blocks? They need more medics on the field."

"You got it," the transport said.

"Atlas…" Orion recognized the designation. "You're Landquake's sparkling."

"Yes, sir," the transport said. "I'm honored you remember me, sir."

Orion wanted to ask how Landquake was, but then remembered this was a trial.

It was easy to forget, even though forgetting didn't seem like part of the simulation. Orion remembered clearly the real danger his soldiers and his friends were in. He knew that he needed to complete the trial as soon as possible so he could decide what to do about Megatron's control of Iacon.

He knew none of the things he was doing now were real. And yet, there was something about the experience that felt real. Something in the optics and the voices of the mecha who he had encountered felt sincere. Some of the constructs in the trial were mecha he knew—others were mecha he'd never seen, but who seemed to know him. And since Primus himself had created the trial…

But Orion didn't want to believe that it contained the future.

Iacon was in ruins.

Ironhide had offlined.

He didn't want either of those things to happen.

Atlas stopped to let the medic off, and then shut his doors and sped forward again.

* * *

Hound crept cautiously toward the front doors, with Autoceptor close behind him. He was grateful to have the old enforcer with him, even if it made this feel too much like the Tarn evacuation.

He could still remember that—still remember what it was like to watch those other enforcers—Clampdown and Deep Cover—fight Megatron and die.

He'd never forget it.

He slipped carefully past the guards standing in front of the doors and modified his projection so that no one outside of it would see the doors open.

Then he reached out and pulled on the door handle. It was unlocked, thankfully. They'd tried all the other doors first, but none of them were open.

Going in through the front was riskier. If the guards were looking closely, they'd see a ripple in the atmosphere as he and Autoceptor went by—Hound's projections weren't perfect, and he hadn't had as much practice making things disappear. He had to copy the ground and other objects within the projection and display them on the outside with the correct proportions, and that was tricky, especially because he needed to move and modify it as he went.

He held the door for Autoceptor, flinching when the mech almost touched the projection. It was invisible on the inside, so he couldn't see it the way Hound could sense it.

And if he bumped into it, or if anything went through it, it would disappear and they'd be exposed until Hound put up another one.

Autoceptor stopped just inside the building, and Hound followed him and carefully closed the door behind himself, trying not to make any sound.

Inside the front doors there was a desk and a wide hallway perpendicular to the entrance. The double doors on the other side of the hallway were open. Off to the side, a group of Decepticon soldiers sat on the ground, playing some sort of dice game.

Autoceptor glanced at Hound, who nodded.

They walked silently through the double doors and stopped, looking out over the vast auditorium. Hound hadn't realized just how _many_ mecha you could fit in this building.

Generating a hologram big enough to hide them all while they escaped wasn't going to be easy.

Autoceptor gestured for him to follow, and he walked after the mech, modifying the projection that hid them while they went. There was enough ambient noise from the Autobot soldiers that the guards weren't likely to hear their pedesteps.

There were several guards around the outside of the room, watching from each exit. The Autobots were crowded into the rows of seats—some standing, some sitting—and the aisles were clear.

It almost looked as if they were simply here for some sort of event.

Autoceptor led Hound past several guards, and then finally stopped a few paces from one who was guarding a small side-door.

He gestured to the mech, and Hound put up a larger projection that extended over the doorway and the guard. He also made a copy of the guard standing just outside the boundaries of the large projection.

The Decepticon was still staring in shock at his double when Autoceptor shot him with a stun blast. The smaller projection disappeared as soon as the shot crossed the barrier, but the larger one was still hiding them from the other guards. Autoceptor lunged forward and caught the unconscious guard before he could crash to the ground.

If any of the others had been watching closely, they would have seen this guard teleport a few paces to the left. Hound turned to look at the other guards while Autoceptor dragged the unconscious one out of the auditorium and used his frame to prop open the door. None of them seemed alarmed about anything, or even particularly alert.

Autoceptor came back in.

"All right," he said quietly. "You ready?"

"One moment," Hound took in a deep vent, braced himself, and put up an enormous projection around the entire auditorium, excluding only the guards at the sides of the room. He didn't want to risk putting projections around the guards in case they decided to move while he wasn't paying attention.

He joined the doorway projection with the larger one. Anyone outside the boundary would see an army of soldiers sitting in the chairs, occasionally shifting, or turning to talk to one another.

He also put up a projection along the ground—a thick red line just inside the large projection so they could see the border they weren't supposed to cross.

Once they'd gotten past the comm. block around Iacon, they'd sent instructions to the captive soldiers, so hopefully everyone would know what to do.

"We're good," Hound said quietly.

Autoceptor nodded and approached the other Autobots.

Some of them had seen him, and a hush traveled through the room.

Autoceptor shook his helm. "Keep making noise," he whispered to the nearest soldiers. "We don't want the guards getting suspicious."

He directed a few rows of Autobot soldiers to start heading out the doorway. A quiet murmur washed over the crowd, which was good because it would hide the sound of pedesteps.

Hound watched as mecha started filing past him. Some smiled tiredly at him, or mouthed silent thanks. He smiled back, feeling awkward.

The large projection was already taking its toll. Maybe he should have opted to make several small ones instead. It would be easier to make hundreds of simultaneous projections than to sustain one the size of the auditorium with the complexity of half an army.

He pressed a hand to his side, where the mod was, turned his vents as high as they would go, and tried to focus on something else.

Some of the mecha walking past him looked tired. Some were injured. Hound doubted they'd had an opportunity to refuel or recharge since Megatron had attacked Iacon.

But as soon as they reached the other Autobots, they'd be asked to join in the fighting.

It wasn't fair, but there was nothing Hound could do about it.

He might not be able to get them out in the first place. His mod could probably last another ten to twenty breems before shorting itself out, but that wouldn't be long enough.

And then the Decepticon guards would sound the alarm and Megatron would almost certainly order his army to kill the remaining prisoners.

Autoceptor came over a few breems later.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Um… the projection's too big," Hound said. "Too complicated. I can't keep it up. I should have made smaller ones around each guard."

"Can you switch over?"

"Maybe," Hound said. "But I have to hold the current projection up until I can get all the others in place."

The old enforcer scowled. "I could go around and knock out all the guards, and then you could drop the projection altogether, or put up a simpler one."

"I'd have to drop it for you to leave it," Hound said. "I mean… I guess I could make that work…"

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know." The mod was really starting to ache, and it was still threatening to overheat, even with his vents on high. "A few breems before things get risky."

Autoceptor crossed his arms. "Could you just make them all disappear? Would that be simpler? No reason for Megatron to attack here if he thinks the prisoners have already escaped."

"But… they'll still make sound."

"I'll tell Mainspring to send them new instructions that they're supposed to be as quiet as possible. There'll have to be a bit of noise from the ones who are walking, but hopefully the guards will be too panicked to notice. Answer the question, mechling, would it be easier to make them disappear?"

Much easier. Hound nodded.

"We'll do that then," Autoceptor said. "Hang in there a few more breems while I get the news to everyone."

"Okay."

Autoceptor wandered off.

It would still be somewhat difficult to make them disappear, but at least it would be a static image. He should probably make several smaller projections covering different sections and leave the aisles out, just in case the guards came to investigate.

After a few breems, the shuffling and muttering of the crowd died out some, and Autoceptor motioned for Hound to go ahead.

He put up new projections and dropped the enormous one simultaneously. Instant relief washed over him.

"What the…"

"Pit!"

"Are you… seeing this?"

"What happened?"

The guards conversed for a few moments and then someone suggested they go get the mecha from out in the hall.

Hound could only hope that they took a long time deciding what to do about the situation.

* * *

A sudden impact slammed Orion into the side of the transport, and then for a moment he felt the weightlessness of falling before Atlas hit the ground and rolled. Orion tumbled on the inside of the transport, flung back and forth.

Then everything fell still.

He could hear noises from outside—shouting—pedesteps coming nearer.

"Atlas?" he said, getting to his knees, gritting his denta against the pain of his injured shoulder. The inside of the transport had gone dark. "Atlas?"

By the light of his optics, Orion could see he was kneeling on a door, which meant Atlas was on his side.

He had to get out before—

The door above him screeched open, letting in the light.

"It's the Prime!" someone said. "Don't kill him—we'll be rewarded for bringing him to Megatron alive."

"Here, roll this thing so we can get him out!"

"Atlas…" Orion said again, as the transport shuddered, and then tipped once more.

Decepticons stood at the door, guns out.

Orion could feel himself trembling as he tried to get to his knees again.

Then the open door snapped shut, and the floor tilted and rose beneath him. The walls of the transport unfolded around him, and the open atmosphere helped him orient himself as he slid down to land on his pedes behind Atlas, who had transformed to root mode.

The Decepticons rushed the transport, and Atlas pulled a tall, heavy staff from subspace. Orion took half a step back, watching in awe as the enormous mech sent several Decepticons flying with a single swing.

But there were so many of them—and more coming…

"Prime, Sir, I can hold them off here until Prowl sends me reinforcements!" Atlas shouted. "Head to the base."

He could find the base from here. It was just a few blocks away.

But…

"Come with me!" Orion shouted. "I won't leave you here."

Orion expected Atlas to argue, but he didn't. "Yes, sir!" He said. "Can you drive? My tires are shot, but I can run behind you."

"Yes," Orion said.

Atlas swept once more with his staff, then turned his back to the Decepticons.

Orion transformed. His shoulder protested, but he ignored the pain and drove forward, listening for Atlas's heavy pedefalls behind him. The Decepticons chased them and Orion heard the sound of laser fire, but only a few stray shots hit him. He realized the larger mech was shielding him with his own frame.

Maybe it would have been better to let Atlas stay behind and fight.

They were met by a small group of Autobot soldiers just outside the back door to the base. Orion transformed and, feeling guilty, left his mecha to defend the door while he entered.

* * *

Ironhide charged forward as the Decepticon line buckled. Seekers rained down death from above, but Prowl had mecha in the nearby buildings returning fire.

As a ground commander, he had access to information about how the whole battle was going. So far, they were winning. The Decepticons were retreating farther and farther back toward the Iacon Academy, and the Autobots had thoroughly re-taken enforcement headquarters. That meant they had complete control over the groundbridge shield, so they could lower it if they needed to retreat.

Of course, it didn't look like that would be necessary.

" _More seekers coming your way. Take cover along the building due north of your position."_

Ironhide relayed the orders to his unit and led the way to the building Prowl had pointed out. He stood with his back to the wall and waited.

Sure enough, a large flight of seekers roared past above them, raining explosives from the sky. Ironhide fired up at them, knocking several down. Shrapnel from the seekers' bombs peppered his frame, but his armor deflected enough of it to keep him from being badly hurt.

" _That gave the Decepticons time to regroup,"_ Prowl said. _"But you should be able to push them back another block, and then you'll need to hold that position because it'll open a clear path I can get the prisoners out through."_

" _How's that going?"_ Ironhide asked.

" _Smoothly, so far,"_ Prowl said.

That was good news.

" _Hold your position. The Decepticons will come to you and you can ambush them from the side."_

Ironhide relayed the orders to his mechs, and got ready, listening to the temporary lull in the battle as the large group of seekers moved on and the Autobots stopped, waiting for their enemies to come to them.

" _We're making good progress,"_ Ironhide remarked.

" _Yes,"_ Prowl said. _"Especially considering this is my first attempt at a purely offensive campaign."_

" _Not that I doubt your skill,"_ Ironhide said. _"But does this seem too easy to you?"_

" _Definitely,"_ Prowl replied. _"Maybe he thinks he can fall back to the Academy and wait until his reinforcements from Tarn arrive, but there's no way he'll be able to hold us off that long, not at this rate, and he must know that…"_

" _Are we missing something?"_ Ironhide said.

" _I hope not,"_ Prowl said. _"But we can't be sure."_

A group of Decepticons came rushing past the building Ironhide and his mecha were waiting behind, and he had to cut his conversation short and focus on fighting.

* * *

"L-lord Megatron, S-sir?"

Megatron turned to regard the trembling soldier. "What?" he snapped.

The mech seemed to be gathering his thoughts or steeling himself for something. Around the room, which was normally used as a classroom, Megatron's commanders and strategists collaborated, gave orders, and directed his forces.

Megatron knew his army was losing, which was frustrating.

But he had to trust his plans.

The tables would turn, so long as this mech wasn't bringing unexpected bad news. "What is it?" he demanded again.

"Sir, the Autobot prisoners…"

"Are they trying to break loose again?"

"No, sir," the mech replied. "They're already gone."

Megatron glared at him. "What?" he demanded. "How?"

"We don't know, sir. We were watching them, we promise. One astrosecond they were there and the next, the whole place was empty. Honest, we—"

"Stop whining," Megatron said and the mech shut his lip plates, trembling.

Megatron had been planning to let the Autobot soldiers go and join their friends. It wouldn't matter in the end—they'd all offline anyway.

But this was an insult.

The fact that they would use that trick again—that they thought it would work on him a third time…

He turned to his strategists. "Call the seekers back to destroy that auditorium we're keeping the Autobot prisoners in."

"Lord Megatron, the Autobots will break through our defenses if the seekers aren't backing them up. We—"

"Follow my orders!" Megatron said. "Bomb out that building! I don't want anything left alive in it!"

"But sir, the prisoners are already—"

"No they're not!" Megatron rounded on the timid guard again. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you live!"

The mech scurried away and Megatron turned his attention back to his strategists. "Well?"

"I'll call some of the seekers back and give them their new target," a mech said.

Megatron nodded, walking to his place at the front of the re-purposed classroom.

"I'll evacuate our soldiers from the building," another mech added.

Megatron wouldn't have bothered with that, but it was fine either way. He commed Soundwave, who answered promptly.

" _I'm losing patience,"_ Megatron said. _"How much more time do you need?"_

" _Two breems,"_ Soundwave said.

" _Good."_ Megatron cut the comm. again.

Two breems to victory.

* * *

Prowl and Jazz stood in the hallway, waiting for him.

"Thank Primus, you made it," Prowl said. "Come, we need to talk."

Orion followed them to a nearby empty room with a small table surrounded by chairs. Prowl sat and Orion followed suit. Jazz climbed up and perched on the back of one of the chairs, looking thoughtful.

Orion couldn't help thinking about the real Jazz, who was probably still unconscious. He should have asked Ratchet how the mech was doing before leaving…

"Optimus," Prowl said. "As I mentioned before, we've received some new intelligence on the weapon Megatron professes to have."

Right. He had to focus on the trial. "What have we learned about it?"

"First off, it ain't a bluff," Jazz said. "We found it, and near as we can figure, it actually could blow up the entire planet."

Orion stared. Had he heard that correctly? "But why… why would Megatron want to do that?"

"The mech's cracked, Prime," Jazz said. "Figures if he can't rule the world, then he'll just make sure no one else can either. Even his own soldiers don't know and the ones who do can't do anything about it."

Orion nodded, though it was hard to believe Megatron would ever be so insane in real life. Then again… he _had_ destroyed Vos. "If you found the weapon, that means we can destroy it, right?"

Prowl and Jazz glanced at each other.

"What?" Orion said.

"We can," Prowl told him. "But it will come at a price. If we destroy the weapon, it's rigged to detonate. If we're the ones who set it off, it won't be targeted properly to destroy all of Cybertron, but it _will_ kill everyone in the nearby sectors, maybe even the whole city-state."

"Where is it?" Orion asked.

"It's in Perihex," Prowl said. "That's where all the refugees from the recent battlefields have been gathering."

"The last neutral state," Jazz continued. "And it's got about a tenth of Cybertron's current population in it. The weapon's under the central sector there."

Orion looked down. "We can't risk killing the refugees. Is there time to evacuate?"

"The moment we start doin' that, the 'Cons will know we found the weapon," Jazz said.

"It's clever," Prowl acknowledged. "He knows us too well. But Optimus…" the Praxian trailed off.

Jazz took over. "We gotta destroy that weapon," he said. "I know that ain't how we normally roll, but we're talkin' about the safety of the whole planet."

"We have two options," Prowl said. "We can either pull the trigger and kill ten percent of the Cybertronian population, or we can let Megatron pull the trigger and kill everyone."

"We don't know he's going to do that," Orion said.

"If he didn't plan ta use it, why would he need it ta actually function?" Jazz said. "Prime, I lost good mecha getting this intel. Let's not waste it."

"We can't target civilians."

"We're prepared to destroy the weapon," Prowl said. "I have some forces from Nova Cronum and Polyhex on the way. But I won't act without your permission."

Orion stared at him.

"Please, Optimus…"

"I won't sanction the killing of innocent civilians."

"This is a sacrifice we have to make," Prowl said.

"Megs is desperate," Jazz said. "This is his last-ditch attempt ta seize some sort of control. Almost all his forces are currently attacking Iacon. If he loses here, then he'll have nothing left but that weapon."

"Which means," Prowl said. "That if we destroy the weapon, we will win this war for good. This is our only chance—our _last_ chance, Optimus. We can rebuild afterward."

Orion met his friend's gaze sorrowfully. "You can't rebuild mecha."

Prowl looked down.

"You would really give that order? You would really kill all those mecha?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "To save Cybertron, yes. You know I'd willingly sacrifice anything to that end. Please…"

Orion shook his helm. Even in a trial, even though those mecha weren't real, he couldn't make that kind of sacrifice. "That _can't_ be our only option. We have to find another way to win the war. Imagine if you killed all the refugees in Perihex and then found out that Megatron was never planning to use his weapon."

"Come _on!_ " Jazz said. "Imagine if we _don't_ destroy that thing and then Megatron uses it. Is your peace of conscience _really_ worth the lives of every mech, femme, and sparkling on this planet? Really, mech?"

"He's right," Prowl said.

"Thank you—"

"No, not you. Optimus is right. Maybe we can find another way—we should at least _try..."_

Jazz glared at him, then shook his helm. "You're gonna get us all offlined. We really ain't got time for this."

"It's easy when you're not the one pulling the trigger," Prowl snapped at him.

Jazz looked like he wanted to snap back, but then he deflated. "Fine," he said, and hopped off the chair he'd been sitting on. "I'll go back ta Perihex and see if I can figure a workaround ta the self-destruct problem. Try and stall long enough for me ta actually _get_ there, okay?"

He left and shut the door behind himself.

Orion looked at Prowl. "Is there a way to stop the fighting?" he asked.

"Megatron's attacking us," Prowl said. "He can retreat whenever he wants to—we're not in his way."

"Could _we_ retreat?"

"Yes, but chances are the Decepticons will follow us, and we'll risk losing the battle."

"What will happen if we surrender?"

"Megatron will take over the world," Prowl said. "Everyone who's willing to fight him is already fighting him. If we surrender… we hand Cybertron over to him. Admittedly, that's an alternative way to save the world that doesn't involve killing civilians, but in the long run..." Prowl trailed off.

Orion crossed his arms, thinking. This choice must be the object of the trial. He could keep fighting and potentially push Megatron to the point of using his weapon to destroy Cybertron, he could kill a tenth of Cybertron's population in exchange for victory, or he could surrender and hand the planet over to the tyrant warlord.

He didn't know what to do. Primus had told him not to let Megatron win, so surrender was obviously the wrong choice.

But pushing Megatron to destroy the entire planet couldn't be right either.

That left killing the refugees in Perihex.

It was wrong—so wrong.

And the worst part was that he'd met with choices like this in the real world too.

All the times Prowl had urged him to attack Megatron first, to take prisoners after winning battles…

This was what was expected of him.

This was what a good general would do—weigh the outcomes and choose the option that would save the most lives while also winning the fight.

But it was still the wrong thing to do.

* * *

Elita stood between Chromia and Moonracer in front of the Iacon Enforcement Headquarters. The seekers had inexplicably disappeared from the sky, and the fighting—at least in this neighborhood—had stopped.

It seemed, from the reports Prowl sent her every few breems, that they were still battling the Decepticons at the Academy. However, they had Megatron surrounded and pinned down.

She hadn't done much fighting. The unit she and her sisters had been placed in had come in behind the main group Prowl had sent to recapture the Enforcement Headquarters. She was certain Prowl had planned it that way, which was both relieving and infuriating. She didn't want to offline, but the idea that she'd been held back for her own safety made her energon boil.

" _The Decepticon seekers are attacking the building where they're keeping our soldiers,"_ Prowl announced over the group comm. with all the commanders.

Elita looked up, spark sinking.

" _Didn't we rescue them?"_ Ironhide growled.

" _Not all of them yet,"_ Prowl said. _"There are quite a few still there."_

" _Can we help them?"_ Elita asked. _"Can we get to them?"_

" _We can try,"_ Prowl said. _"But we're going to need to move some of our forces from your position to the Academy to support our soldiers there."_

" _I will—"_ Ultra Magnus said.

" _No, I'll go,"_ Elita cut him off. _"Send my unit and as many others as you need. We're not doing much here."_

" _Very well,"_ Prowl said, and sent her instructions. Elita passed them on to the soldiers with her and they transformed and started down the street.

" _How many of our soldiers have made it to safety?"_ Ultra Magnus asked over the comm.

" _Maybe a fourth of them,"_ Prowl said. _"I don't know if we'll be able to save many more. Megatron has a large percentage of his seekers concentrated on bombing the building."_

" _Could we use that to our advantage?"_ Ultra Magnus asked.

" _Yes,"_ Prowl said. _"If we focus on defeating the Decepticons while the seekers are distracted."_

" _It's more important to rescue our soldiers if we can,"_ Elita said.

" _Agreed,"_ Ultra Magnus said.

" _Megatron's probably counting on us feeling that way,"_ Prowl said. _"But… at this point, we'll win either—"_

The comm. died.

Elita kept driving, waiting anxiously for Prowl to re-establish communications.

But he didn't. She tried comming him and when that didn't work, she opened a group comm. with Ultra Magnus and Ironhide.

" _Commander Elita One,"_ Ultra Magnus said. _"I have lost all communication with Nova Cronum."_

" _Same,"_ Elita said.

"Hey, Ellie," Chromia said from beside her. "Is Prowl still talking to you?'

"No, I can't comm. him," Elita replied then spoke over the comm. to Ultra Magnus. _"What should we do?"_

" _His last instructions to me were to continue to guard the Enforcement Headquarters."_

" _I was told to join Ironhide's forces at the Academy."_

Where was Ironhide? He hadn't accepted the comm. invitation yet…

" _Our best course of action is to follow our instructions and hope that Prowl can re-establish communication in time to direct us further."_

" _What do you think could have happened?"_ Elita said.

" _I do not know,"_ Ultra Magnus said stiffly. _"My hope is that the communications failure was due to a technical problem."_

The other possibility was that their mecha in Nova Cronum were under attack.

They hadn't left many behind. They _had_ moved to the groundbridge station, so theoretically the Decepticons wouldn't know where to find them…

It had to be some sort of technical problem.

Because if Prowl was under attack—if he didn't re-establish communications—if he was hurt or offlined—they'd never win another battle.

Ironhide finally joined the comm. _"What's going on? What happened to Prowl?"_

" _We don't know,"_ Elita said. _"We're hoping it's just some sort of mistake or communication glitch."_

" _Well, as soon as the comm. went down, the Decepticons redoubled their attack here,"_ Ironhide said grimly. _"So I'm pretty sure Megatron knows we lost comms with Nova Cronum."_

" _In that case, we must act even more quickly to win the battle,"_ Ultra Magnus said.

" _What?"_ Ironhide said.

" _If the Decepticons are planning to capture or kill Prowl, we must capture Megatron first and offer to make a deal with them."_

" _Right,"_ Ironhide said. _"That could work. I'm closest, and I'm pretty sure I know what building he's operating out of. But our attack is falling apart now that Prowl's gone."_

" _If you can capture Megatron, the battle will end,"_ Ultra Magnus said. _"There is still no fighting here, so I will join you with reinforcements. Commander Elita One, it would be prudent for you to return to your previous position."_

" _Where it's safe?"_ Elita snapped. _"I'm part of this battle. I'm going to join the fighting."_

" _I understand,"_ Ultra Magnus said. _"And I acknowledge your authority in this situation, but my advice is for you to return here to guard the Enforcement Headquarters."_

" _Noted,"_ Elita said. _"Thank you for your concern, but I'm going to help Ironhide."_

" _Very well."_

They were driving through a familiar neighborhood now. Their route would take them right past the apartment building she and her sisters had lived in for vorns.

That seemed like such a long time ago now.

She led her mecha around a sharp corner…

And into a storm of blaster fire from the Decepticons who had been waiting for them.

Elita panicked and spun to the side, almost crashing into one of her soldiers. She transformed and ran toward a nearby light pole. Once there, she crouched in the meager cover it provided and started returning fire on the Decepticons, looking for her sisters among the chaos of mecha transforming and trying to pull out their weapons.

They were being slaughtered….

There. Chromia was supporting a heavily-limping Moonracer, approaching Elita's position.

" _Fall back!"_ Elita ordered. _"Get back around the corner for cover!"_

Of course, she was on the opposite side of the road, and there was no way she could cross it without getting picked off.

Her sisters reached her.

"Come on!" Chromia said.

Elita ducked under Moonracer's other shoulder and helped her limp to a more sheltered place alongside a building. About a third of her forces joined her, while the rest retreated the way they had come, leaving dozens of lifeless frames in the intersection.

The Decepticons stopped firing and backed off, leaving six mechs out in the open.

"Pit," Chromia muttered. "Fragging pit…"

"Moonracer, are you…"

"Fine," Moonracer brushed Elita off. "Just my leg."

Elita looked down at her sister's injured limb, but before she could really assess the damage, her attention was drawn back to the Decepticons, who had started cheering wildly.

And she watched as the six mechs in the front transformed _into_ each other. It was horrifying and fascinating all at once. They rose together, forming into one colossus with mad red optics, larger and stronger than the sum of its parts.

"Primus beneath…" Moonracer whispered.

The thing roared. "Devastator!"

The surrounding Decepticons repeated the word, chanting as the giant turned to look at Elita and her soldiers.

" _Retreat!"_ she ordered over the comm, then turned to run with her sisters down the road.

Her soldiers stayed with her in root mode. They could easily outpace the combiner if they drove, but they were loyal enough not to leave her, and she wasn't going to abandon Moonracer.

"You should go!" Chromia said. "We'll find somewhere to hide. That thing can't get through doorways, and it's probably after you anyway."

"Are you sure?"

The running giant's pedes shook the ground.

"Yes!" Chromia said. "Don't worry about us. You can't die or it's all over."

"All right," Elita said, then ducked out from under Moonracer's shoulder and gave the order to transform and drive with her.

Not an astrosecond too soon.

The giant caught up and threw itself at the stragglers in the group, swinging its enormous arms. But it missed as the Autobots transformed and dodged nimbly around its flailing fists.

It was clumsy—probably not used to its own size and strength. Elita and her soldiers quickly pulled ahead of it.

But then she realized something.

She knew this road.

It was a dead end.

* * *

Orion needed more time. He needed the fighting to stop so he could think about this decision. Furthermore, he could feel through the bond that Elita was in trouble. She was desperate, frightened, losing. He could barely focus, barely think…

"Prowl?"

"Yes?"

"Can we talk to Megatron? Is there a way to contact him?"

"We can try," Prowl said.

"Tell him that if he calls a cease-fire, I'll meet with him in person—and that I'll come alone."

"Optimus, that's suicide," Prowl said.

"Any decision at this point would amount to as much," Orion said. "Perhaps I can reason with him. That may be our only hope."

"There's no reasoning with him," Prowl said. "Handing you over to him would be the same thing as surrendering."

"No," Orion said. "It would be the same thing as putting you in charge."

Prowl's optics widened. "But I…"

"If it buys us time to find an alternate means of destroying the weapon, it will be worth it," Orion said. "Contact Megatron."

Prowl nodded.

Orion shuttered his optics. He wanted to comm. Elita and talk to her, but he didn't want to distract her. She was injured now—he hadn't felt that through the bond before, but the pain was unmistakable.

He had to remind himself that it was just a trial—that the real Elita was fine.

But he realized he didn't know that for sure, because he could only feel the fake one in the trial.

"He's not answering," Prowl said. "I don't think he's willing to talk."

"Very well," Orion replied. "I'll go get his attention. You can return to the command center and direct the battle."

"Yes, sir," Prowl said. "Orion?"

Orion looked at him, surprised. This was the first time in the trial that Prowl had called him that.

"Good luck," the Praxian said quietly.

"You too." Orion stepped out of the room and hurried down the hallway to the door he'd come in. It opened for him and he charged out to join Atlas and the others. The transport was badly injured and leaking from numerous wounds, but still fighting, along with a handful of other soldiers.

Orion stepped past them. "Stop!"

All fell still. Even Orion was surprised at the power of his voice.

"Take me to Megatron," he said. "If you leave these mecha alone, I'll come quietly."

"No!" Atlas stumbled forward, but fell to his knees with a groan.

"Deal," one of the Decepticon soldiers said, training his gun on Orion. "Come on, then."

Orion stepped forward.

Over the bond, he felt Elita send him a desperate apology.

And then suddenly she was gone.

Fiery agony washed over his spark, twisting, crushing, shattering pain…

Blackness closed in and he was unconscious before he even started falling.

* * *

Prowl was having hundreds of conversations at once—with the captains of each unit, with the commanders, with the mecha in his department, with mecha around Iacon who were headed toward the fighting, willing to join in and banish the Decepticons from their city.

The battle was going well.

The seekers were falling back… strange…

" _Soundwave!"_

Prowl jumped as Red Alert's piercing voice cut through the cacophony in his processor. _"Red Alert! What…"_

" _Soundwave's here! He's on base. He's headed straight for you!"_

Fantastic. _"Is he alone?"_

The Decepticon seekers in Iacon were all converging over the Academy. That didn't make sense. What were they doing there…?

" _Does it matter? It's_ Soundwave!"

" _Yes, it matters,"_ Prowl snapped. _"Is he alone?"_

" _Yes!"_

Good. Prowl had thought about this possible scenario, and had prepared for it. "Flame, lock the door."

"What?" the tactician said, looking up from his computer console.

"I said go lock the door to this room," Prowl glared at him then spoke to Red Alert over the comm. _"You have access to all the security in the building. Lock your door and change the passcode to a sequence of random numbers generated by your computer. Change the code on my door too. Don't look at the new passcodes. If you don't know them, Soundwave won't either, and he won't be able to get to us."_

" _Oh…"_ Red Alert said.

Prowl turned the rest of his attention back to the battle.

Oh…

The Decepticon seekers were bombing the building where they were keeping the Autobot prisoners.

Frag it.

Prowl ran some initial calculations and scenarios, trying to figure out a way to save them. He spoke to the commanders over the comm. and notified them about the prisoners.

He probably ought to tell them about Soundwave too, but he had too many other things to worry about first, and he had to keep up with the battle.

He smirked when he heard the door shut behind him. _Figure that one out, telepath._

" _He's stopped!"_ Red Alert said. _"He's stopped and he's going toward a groundbridge… no, a help desk!"_

" _Would you please stop yelling at me?"_ Prowl said. _"I'm trying to concentrate."_

" _Primus, he's in this building! He can forward all of our plans to Megatron!"_

" _It doesn't matter,"_ Prowl snapped. _"He still can't beat me. And the doors here are sturdy enough he won't be able to force his way past them to attack us. We're perfectly safe, and we're still going to win. Please calm down."_

" _But he's doing something! He's got a datapad plugged into one of the help desks. What if he's hacking the codes for the doors? What if—"_

All of Prowl's comms went dead, and the sudden silence was deafening. Prowl looked up sharply to see the rest of his team also looking around, confused.

"What happened?" one of them asked.

"Comm. block," Prowl said, spark sinking. "On our end. The intruder put one up somehow."

"What?" Hurricane, Prowl's second in command, asked. "How…"

"It's Soundwave, I don't know how he did it." Prowl shuttered his optics, thinking. Losing communications didn't necessarily mean they would lose, but if Megatron had been planning for this—if he had some sort of trap to spring… They had to do something. Now that he couldn't talk to Red Alert… "Can we access the security cameras from here?"

"I… think so," Flame said. "Give me an astrosecond…"

Prowl waited, trying not to let anxiety about the battle overwhelm him. He needed to get the comms back up, but he didn't even know how to start. He hadn't realized you could just plug into a help desk in a groundbridge station and put up a comm. block. It wasn't even asking for a password, it was just blocking _everything._

"Uh…" Flame said. "Actually, I can't get the feeds up. I don't know what's wrong. Maybe Red Alert locked something down."

So they had no way of knowing where Soundwave was.

They could sit here and wait for help.

But at the same time, they couldn't.

Someone needed to run the battle, so they couldn't stay here. If they left the building, they could re-establish communication with Iacon.

This was a ploy to draw Prowl out so Soundwave could capture or kill him.

If Prowl went out to face the telepath, he'd probably lose.

But his mecha could leave the building and finish directing the battle.

"What are we going to do?" Hurricane asked.

Prowl got up from his station and walked to the door. If Soundwave killed him, the balance of power would tip in favor of the Decepticons, and the Autobots wouldn't have a chance to win. However, Soundwave was an even more powerful advantage than Prowl. If Prowl killed Soundwave, even at the expense of his own life, it would tip the scales towards the Autobots.

"Here's what we'll do," he said. "You'll all leave the building and re-establish communication with the field commanders. And I'll deal with Soundwave."

Some of them looked distinctly uncomfortable about that.

"Don't worry," he said. "The majority of the outcomes will benefit the Autobot cause."

"Unless he kills you," Hurricane said.

Prowl didn't feel like explaining—he didn't want to give anyone an opportunity to talk him out of this, because it was insane, and, well... he didn't actually want to die. He beckoned for the other tacticians to get up from their computers. "Red Alert," he said. "If you can still see and hear me through the security system, please unlock this door."

Nothing.

"I promise I have a plan," Prowl said. "Just let me out of this room."

There was another moment of hesitation, and then Prowl heard the distinct whirr-click of the door unlocking.

"Stand back," he said to his mecha. Soundwave could be right outside for all he knew. Prowl unsubspaced a gun and hit the button to open the door. Everyone waited in tense silence as it slid open, but there was nothing out in the hall.

"All right," Prowl said, trying not to sound as terrified as he felt. "Stick together, and get out of the station so you can contact the commanders. You might also want to send for some help—I'll probably need it."

Some still seemed hesitant, especially Hurricane. Prowl wasn't sure if his second in command was genuinely concerned for his safety, or just worried that if Prowl died, he'd have to lead the department.

Probably the latter.

But no one argued. The majority of the tactical division went down the hall in one direction, while Prowl went the other. He didn't know the building very well, but he didn't think anyone here did, except for Red Alert—and Soundwave by extension.

He was at a disadvantage, but if he found a defensible position, it would even the odds.

Besides, he didn't have to win, just take the telepath with him.

* * *

Ironhide fought his way toward the door. Prowl still hadn't come back on the comm. which was bad news. Their only hope at this point was to capture Megatron and try to end the fighting. If Prowl was still online, they could exchange the warlord for him.

But first they had to get to the mech. Ironhide was almost certain Megatron was in the building his soldiers were fighting outside of, but there was a whole crowd of Decepticons in the way.

He didn't know how the battle was going elsewhere. Elita had said something about a combiner, but if her unit was fighting one, Ironhide couldn't do anything to help.

Chromia was still online and unhurt, so he assumed her sisters were all right as well, but he didn't know for certain. He didn't have time to touch bases with everyone, and he couldn't afford to get distracted, not while he was fighting.

He just had to get through that door with enough mecha to capture Megatron.

That was the best way to pull off a win.

But the Decepticons were pushing his mecha back.

They were dying.

Frag it, they couldn't do this without Prowl.

He could feel Chromia's fierce focus through the bond. She was in danger, but still fighting, still determined to win.

If they lost this battle, she could die too.

He focused on her—her spark pulsing in rhythm with his. He thought about her bright, piercing optics, her fiery temper, her radiant smile…

He'd lose her if he didn't win this battle.

He couldn't afford to lose.

He roared and pushed forward harder, charging into the fray with renewed energy. Soon, he was in the front of the formation, cutting through the ranks of Decepticons. The doors were getting closer…

Suddenly, the Decepticons parted, backing away, letting him pass.

" _Commander!"_ his third in command said. _"Wait! They're cutting you off!"_

Ironhide barreled forward, blinded by his purpose.

The doors opened as he reached them, and he didn't question it until they slammed shut behind him and he was alone.

He looked around the empty entry-room. This was one of the Academy's lecture hall buildings. The wide entry way branched off into several hallways lined with classrooms and small auditoriums.

Ironhide turned back to the closed doors. He couldn't abandon the soldiers out there, and he couldn't capture Megatron on his own.

But, unsurprisingly, the doors had locked behind him.

Peripheral motion caught his optic and he turned to see a mech step out of the nearest hallway.

"Commander Ironhide," Megatron said. "It's been a while."

Ironhide powered up his arm cannon, glaring at the warlord.

"I believe the last time we met, you shot me from behind," Megatron said, and a double-edged blade slid out from his arm.

Frag. Ironhide had run right into this, hadn't he?

"I've been hoping for a rematch since. I'm curious to see if you can hold your own when you don't get to sneak up on your opponent."

There was nothing to do. His mecha weren't going to fight their way to the doors in time to help him.

He reached out to his sparkmate, and Chromia reached back with determination.

She hadn't given up, and neither would he.

He rushed at the warlord, firing his cannon.

Megatron dodged, then charged forward as well, with a gleeful light burning in his red optics.

* * *

Orion's spark ached, even before he came fully online. He moaned, fighting the reality of consciousness. He didn't want to be awake. It hurt…

Elita.

She was gone.

No…

He couldn't feel her at all. But… this was just a trial, wasn't it? He should still be able to feel her, especially if the trial Elita had...

Offlined...

He un-shuttered his optics and looked up at the dark ceiling above him.

Where was he?

"I see you've finally returned to consciousness."

Orion froze.

Megatron.

He turned toward the voice and saw his former friend standing over him.

"Get him up," Megatron said.

Orion was dragged roughly to his pedes. He felt dizzy and weak, and every sparkbeat was agony.

The real Elita couldn't be dead. If she was dead, Orion would be dead too. The trial must be blocking the bond.

That didn't help the pain, though. The faint hope didn't cancel out the moment she'd disappeared, taking part of his spark with her.

"Come now, Prime, you're not hurt _that_ badly," Megatron said. "Bring him."

He couldn't walk. He wasn't sure if that was because of Elita's death, or because of the high-power stasis cuffs on his wrists. Either way, the mecha holding him up had to drag him over to a large window.

Outside, he could see stars, the moons, and…

Cyberton, filling the sky below, lit from behind by the sun.

They were in space.

"Tragic, isn't it?" Megatron asked.

"What…" Orion said. "What are you…"

"I'm so sick of this war," Megatron said. "Aren't you tired of it, Orion? Just look at what we've done."

He saw it.

His beautiful planet was in smoking ruins. City-states that had once been brilliantly illuminated were dark. Some patches on the planet's surface glowed red, others were obscured by heavy smoke.

His world was broken.

"All these vorns, fighting our petty squabbles."

Orion leaned his helm against the window, wishing he could still feel Elita.

"Don't you want it to end?"

He wished it would. He didn't want it to come to this. He didn't want to keep fighting until it was too late. He wanted the war to stop _now,_ in the real world, outside the trial. "Yes."

"You can make it happen," Megatron said. "Your pitiful forces are still resisting me in Iacon, but they'll stand down if you give the order."

Orion shook his helm.

"Surrender, and I'll call off my soldiers too. Tell your mecha to lay their weapons down, and the killing will end. They don't need to die, Optimus."

"Really?" Orion asked. "Are you telling the truth? Will you really spare their lives?"

"It's no use ruling the world if everyone's offline," Megatron said. "I'll need unconditional surrender, of course. And all of your commanding officers will need to turn themselves in. After all, those responsible will need to pay for every victory they've stolen from me."

Orion dragged his gaze away from his broken planet to look at his one-time friend.

Megatron stared coldly out the window with a bitter expression on his faceplate.

"I might not kill you all, though," he said. "In fact, it's going to take quite a lot of effort to rebuild, and I'll need experienced leaders to help me retain control. You could join me. I'll put you in charge of your own city-state, and you'll be able to rule however you wish, so long as you keep up with taxes of course."

Orion stared at him.

Megatron turned to meet his gaze, a cruel smile tugging the corners of his scarred lip plates. "Come now, you realize how generous that offer is? All of this is your fault, after all."

" _My_ fault?"

"If you'd surrendered in the beginning, all of the mecha who've died in this war would still be alive. I would have killed the Councils and put something better in their place. You got in my way and made a mess of it all. You ought to be on trial for your war crimes. Instead, I'm offering to make peace. I'm offering you a position of power. I know you want this war to end, Optimus. Just surrender, before it's too late."

Orion turned away again, with a sigh.

He wanted to surrender.

He wasn't sure if he could trust Megatron's promises, but maybe if he surrendered, Megatron would stop killing mecha, and the trial would end, and he'd be able to feel Elita over the bond again. He didn't know how much longer he could stand the emptiness in his spark.

He wanted to surrender.

But he couldn't.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry, Megatron. I can't let you win."

Megatron growled like a feral symbiot, and Orion looked over to see the warlord bearing down on him. The mecha holding him let go and Megatron grabbed him from behind and slammed him into the window glass.

Orion shuttered his optics, gritting his denta against the pain.

"You _will_ surrender," Megatron said quietly, in his audio. "I can't let you win either. So if you refuse my offer one more time, I'll make you watch as I destroy everything you love."

"You can't—"

"I _can_ ," Megatron said. "So you'd better think carefully before you speak again."

He shoved Orion harder into the window, and Orion gasped. "Stop!"

"Surrender," Megatron said. "Or Cybertron will be destroyed."

Orion looked down at his beautiful, broken home.

He could save it if he surrendered.

He could save it if he slaughtered the refugees in Perihex.

Wasn't saving Cybertron worth any price?

Wasn't it worth asking his mecha to stand down?

Jazz's words rang in his audios. _Is your peace of conscience really worth the lives of every mech, femme, and sparkling on this planet?_

This was a sacrifice Orion ought to be willing to make. He should be willing to hand his remaining friends over to Megatron, so Megatron could torture them to death. He should be willing to stop the fighting by allowing the tyrant to take over the world.

But he couldn't surrender.

"Your… actions…"

"What?" Megatron said.

"Your actions are your own," Orion said, vision blurring. "I can't stop you from destroying Cybertron. That's your choice… But if you do it, you will lose just as much as I will. Do you really want this war to end in a stalemate? Are you really so afraid to fight that you'll give up like this?"

Megatron was silent for a moment, and Orion vented a sigh of relief.

But then the warlord spoke. "I'm already losing. Otherwise I wouldn't have wasted my time talking to you. This is your last chance, Prime. You have three astroseconds to surrender."

"Please," Orion said. "Don't kill them all. You said there's no point in ruling if you have no one to rule. There are so many innocent mecha… and your soldiers are still fighting in Iacon, aren't they? Will you kill them too?"

"Activate the weapon," Megatron growled.

"No!" Orion begged. "Please, Megatron. Don't do this. Don't—"

"Shut up!" Megatron pulled him back and slammed him into the window again.

The pain was almost too much. Orion shut his lip plates and stared down at the surface of the planet below.

"Now, watch," Megatron commanded.

Orion couldn't look away.

They waited, staring down at their world together.

A fountain of violet light rose from one of the city-states halfway between the equator and the north pole. It came shooting up toward them, and then spread out and rained back down on the surface of the planet.

Everywhere it touched burned. Explosions the size of city-states peppered the face of Cybertron. Lights flashed amidst black clouds—violet and sickly green and deep orange. The fire spread, rising from beneath; raining from above.

Orion watched, trembling, as the destruction covered the whole globe.

And he watched the fires dwindle and die out.

Until Cybertron was a cold, dark husk.

Then everything faded to gray.

* * *

The pain was gone, but Orion was alone. All around him was bleak nothingness. He could feel his pedes on the ground, but he couldn't see anything in the fog.

This must be the end of the trial.

"I'm sorry," he said to the mist. "I failed, didn't I?"

" _Cybertron was destroyed,"_ Primus's voice replied.

Orion put his faceplate in his hands. "Does this mean I won't receive the Matrix? Is there anything I can do now?"

" _Answer this,"_ Primus said softly. _"If you were to repeat the trial, would you choose differently?"_

Orion took in a deep, calming vent, thinking.

" _Would you leave the sparklings and the Decepticon seeker to their fate? Would you attack the innocents in Perihex?"_

"No," Orion said. "Even knowing that it was a trial, I couldn't… I would fail again if I tried again. I would fail every time."

" _You would not fail,"_ Primus replied. _"Because you_ did _not fail."_

Orion looked up, searching the nothingness. "What do you mean?"

" _You showed unwavering honor, kindness and selflessness."_

But…

" _You showed mercy, even to those who were your enemies. You did what was right at the expense of the greater good."_

"But Megatron won…"

" _He did not. He lost everything, just as you did."_

Orion looked down at his hands.

The Covenant of Primus suggested that Cybertron would be destroyed. But that hadn't been real to him until now.

Did this mean that he would take part in causing that destruction—that his actions would lead to the annihilation of his home? Did this mean he was going to get Ironhide and Chromia and Elita and countless others offlined?

" _Have you made your decision?"_

He had to ask. "Will… things happen as they did in the trial? Is that how this war will end?"

" _No,"_ Primus said. _"Though many things from the future were encoded within the trial."_

"Will Ironhide and Chromia… and Elita…"

" _I cannot tell you without altering the course I have set for you. Know only that you must be prepared in the case that your friends cannot be with you to the end of your journey."_

Orion shuttered his optics.

" _They fight now to reclaim Iacon. You must choose quickly."_

Images flashed in his mind. Elita and Chromia facing down a giant—Soundwave standing over Prowl with a gun to his helm—Ironhide battling Megatron one-on-one.

Orion looked up again. "They're in danger?"

" _Once you have made your decision, I will send you where you are most needed. The Autobots will not be defeated this orn."_

Orion took in a deep vent. He didn't have time to waste. "I'm ready."

The world faded in and the colorless surface of the ground was replaced by the walkway. The light from the Core was almost blinding now.

" _Rise, Orion Pax."_ Primus's voice was like a physical force now, powerful and sorrowful.

Orion stood, staring into the brilliant light, unable to look away.

" _You have come before me, and I find you worthy of your station. Will you now accept the responsibilities of your calling and receive the Matrix of Leadership?"_

"I will," Orion said.

He gasped as a beam of something that felt too solid to be light hit him, and he felt his chest plates open to reveal his spark chamber. His first instinct was to fight this, but he shuttered his optics and gave in to the light instead as it raised him from the walkway he had been standing on. The light burned through him, imprinting onto his processor, his core, and his spark, overwriting what was there with knowledge and energy and power.


	59. Optimus Prime

The groundbridge station had been farther than Blaster expected, and he was ready to find somewhere to hide and recharge with his symbiots, even _if_ this turned out to be the right one.

He stumbled across the empty street, yawning. He'd get as close as possible, stretch his range out, and then go find somewhere to rest.

The front doors opened and a group of mecha came hurrying out, glancing behind themselves nervously as if they were scared something was chasing them.

Blaster stopped and stretched his range out to cover them. He could already see they were Autobots because they wore the red symbols on their shoulders.

 _We should get back to the other building._

 _I still can't send comms. Maybe we aren't far enough away._

 _I hope the Commander's all right. I've heard of Soundwave, and he seems dangerous…_

Blaster's optics widened.

Soundwave was here.

He waited for the other mecha to leave, then rushed his symbiots out of the road.

"Stay here," he said, gesturing for them to hide by the side of the building. "I have to go in by myself."

"What?" Steeljaw said. "No…"

"Just wait here, I'll be okay," Blaster said. He didn't want to put any of them in danger, just in case Soundwave was as crazy as all the Autobots seemed to think he was.

Then he pushed his range out over the whole building. There were only a few mecha in it. A group of Autobots hiding in a small room, wondering what was happening. A panicked mech watching the cameras, afraid for his life, the life of someone designated Prowl, the lives of everyone else in the building, and the lives of the Autobot soldiers in Iacon.

And then there was Soundwave, chasing a Praxian.

That must be Prowl.

Blaster jogged into the building, feeling shaky, but alert. Soundwave was keeping his range small so he could focus better on killing Prowl. That was bad because it meant Blaster couldn't get in his range and stop him without getting close.

The mech watching the cameras noticed him.

 _What the frag is a youngling doing in here? Where did he come from? Who is he? I left the front door open… should I close it? Should I try to get everyone else out while Soundwave's distracted?_

 _He's going to kill Prowl… he's going to kill Prowl and we're all going to die!_

Blaster tried to ignore him so he could focus on Prowl and Soundwave.

Prowl was looking for a defensible position as he ran. He needed to find somewhere Soundwave couldn't sneak up on him—somewhere he could stall long enough for help to come.

Blaster ran faster. Soundwave was ready. He was going to come around the corner and shoot Prowl while he was still…

Prowl heard Soundwave's pedesteps ahead of him and skidded to a stop, raising his gun to aim toward the noise. _This isn't exactly the defensible spot I was hoping for, but I suppose it'll do._

Soundwave stopped, just around the corner, thinking.

 _He can hear me._ Prowl thought. _He knows I'm ready for him. He knows I'll shoot him the moment he steps out into the hall._

But Soundwave wasn't worried. He had Ravage with him, and Laserbeak was already flying around to cut Prowl off from the other side. _I have him trapped._

 _He can hear what I'm thinking. But I can hear him too—I can hear his engine running._ Prowl listened closely. _There… he's shifted his hand into some sort of integrated gun… he's hesitating—he knows I'll shoot anything that comes around the corner, probably before he can aim at me. I doubt he's had much training with a gun, and I'm a pretty good shot…_

Blaster _had_ to get inside Soundwave's range to startle him—to stop him—before it was too late.

 _His symbiot's coming from the other side,_ the mech watching the cameras thought. _Prowl's trapped. Frag it, I can't tell him…_

 _I just need to wait this out,_ Prowl thought.

Blaster wasn't going to get there fast enough.

Prowl heard something behind him—a humming, whirring sound. It took him an astrosecond to identify it.

 _Frag it, Red Alert, you said he was alone!_

Laserbeak came around the corner at the other end of the hall.

Prowl kept his gun pointing toward the corner Soundwave was hiding behind. _It's just a symbiot—just a distraction._

Then he heard laserfire and something hit him in the back.

 _Or not._

Prowl spun, powering up his battle computer to help him aim. He shot at Laserbeak and then jumped out of the way as Soundwave stepped out into the hall and fired at him.

Ravage bounded toward him with an enraged growl.

Blaster ran harder, desperate. They had to stop! He had to stop them!

Prowl ignored Ravage and fired at Soundwave.

Soundwave dodged and took the shot in his arm instead of where it mattered.

 _I have one more chance before that cat jumps on me…_

But he'd forgotten Laserbeak, who had managed to fly up from the ground, injured and furious. She crashed into Prowl's doorwing, throwing off his aim, and he missed again while she fell to the ground, dizzy.

 _No…_ Prowl stared hopelessly at Soundwave's blank screen as Soundwave closed the distance between them.

Ravage jumped on him and by the time Prowl had knocked the cat away, Soundwave had closed in and was pointing a gun right at his helm.

Everything went still for a moment.

Soundwave took in a deep vent. _It'll be easy. I just have to pull my range in and then pull the trigger and wait for his spark to go out…_

Blaster was almost there.

Prowl could hear his pedesteps. _Fast and light… someone small… what?_

 _I won this round. I just have to finish him off, and then we can win the war and put everything right… I have to do this…_

He hadn't pulled his range back yet, but he was about to.

Just two more astroseconds…

One more…

Blaster sprinted into Soundwave's range. Soundwave jerked backward with a staticky scream as his processor exploded with feedback. Blaster's helm was full of white fire as well for a moment, before the older telepath yanked his range in. _What… Blaster… what are you doing here?_

"Stop!" Blaster came running around the corner. "Let him go."

Prowl didn't miss the opportunity. He shoved Soundwave away and grabbed for his gun.

"No!" Blaster shouted.

Ravage leaped on Prowl, digging his claws in deep, obviously trying to prevent the Praxian from reaching his weapon.

Blaster reached Soundwave's new, smaller range, and Soundwave was forced to pull it in even further.

Soundwave put a hand to his splitting helm. I _can't fight Prowl with Blaster interfering, but Prowl won't be affected by the youngling. I have to get out of here. I have to get Ravage and Laserbeak out of here..._

"Let's go!" he said, then sprinted away from Blaster. He scooped Laserbeak up from the ground, and kept running. Ravage leaped off of Prowl to follow them.

Prowl grabbed his gun, and raised it to aim at the retreating mech, but Blaster darted in front of him.

"Don't," he said. "Don't shoot them."

Prowl stared at him, lowering the gun. "Who are you?" he asked. "What…" he narrowed his optics.

"I'm Blaster. I'm uh… here to join the Autobots?"

 _The other telepath… Primus, that's why Soundwave_ _…_ _he saved me…_ Prowl set the gun down and got slowly to his pedes. Ravage's claws had left several deep, leaking gashes on the Praxian's frame, but he was just relieved to be alive. He looked down the hall in the direction Soundwave had disappeared.

"If that's okay?" Blaster asked.

If what was okay? Blaster joining the Autobots? "Yes," Prowl said quietly. "I think that will be all right."

* * *

"I'm good here," Moonracer said.

"You sure?" Chromia asked.

"There's only one way they can come at me, and I have plenty of ammo," Moonracer replied as Chromia helped her sit down at the end of the hall. "Go help Elita."

"Okay," Chromia said. "Good luck."

"You'll need it more than me," Moonracer said. "Go."

Chromia transformed and sped back down the hall. She had to switch back to root mode to go down the stairs, but she still got outside relatively quickly.

She could see the group of Decepticons, chasing Elita and her mecha down the street, followed closely by the combiner.

Idiot. That street was a dead end.

Chromia went back inside and took the building's back door, which was unlocked, fortunately.

She drove down the adjacent street as fast as her tires could take her, anxiously monitoring her sibling bond. Sibling bonds were frustratingly weak compared to spark bonds, but she could tell Elita was alive and not badly hurt.

She had time. She just had to get ahead of those Decepticons and cut across again…

And then what?

She couldn't fight a combiner, could she?

She had a couple of grenades, and that thing had to have weak spots. Maybe if she was careful, she could take it out, or at least slow it down.

She drove faster. Even from the next block over, she could feel the combiner's pedes shaking the ground.

She wasn't going to let that thing kill her sister.

She felt Ironhide reach out to her, and she reached back, grateful for his support and for the knowledge that he was still fighting too.

He was scared, but he wasn't going to let it stop him.

She got far enough ahead and then skidded to a stop, transformed, and ran toward the buildings to the side of the road. Elita had cornered herself in a dead end. All the buildings would be locked from her side, and there were fences around them. Didn't she fragging _remember_ that you couldn't get out of this street?

Chromia reached the closest building and pulled out one of her grenades. She pulled the pin, dropped it, then took cover behind a scrap bin just in time.

Then she rushed in through the broken doorway. Alarms went off—the building was a department store, dark and empty except for the annoying flashing red lights.

Chromia found a wide enough aisle and transformed, racing across the store, afraid she was taking too long.

She didn't have a grenade to waste on the other door, so she drove up a ramp to the third floor where there were balconies open to the outside.

She transformed out on the balcony and looked down at the scene below. Elita's mecha fought desperately, but they were evenly matched in numbers except that the Decepticons had that combiner.

She could see Elita down there too, fighting alongside the soldiers.

And the combiner was about to pass right by the balcony. It would be a crazy jump, possibly too far…

Eh.

Chromia pulled out her second grenade and activated its magnetism function. Then she backed up, got a running start, and boosted herself over the railing, leaping out above the street. She grinned as she marked her trajectory and realized she was going to make it.

Then she crashed right into the combiner's helm and managed to stick the grenade to its neck before being thrown off.

She flew through the atmosphere, trying to orient herself…

Crashed into the ground and rolled _…_

Blackness closed in, but she fought to stay conscious.

Distantly, she could hear mecha shouting, and explosions, and huge crashing sounds.

She could hear Elita…

"…Chromia! Chromia, please…"

The world came into focus, along with a sharp, pulsing pain down her entire right side. Elita was kneeling over her, looking anxious.

Chromia struggled to a sitting position, grimacing. She was scraped and dented all over, and her right arm and leg were practically crushed, but other than that she was all right.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Chromia said, looking over at the combiner, which was now a crumpled hill of limbs. "Frag, did that actually work?"

"I don't think it's dead," Elita said, "But you did bring it down."

Chromia gasped as she felt Ironhide get hurt.

"…and we're pushing the 'Cons back." Elita continued. "Come on, let's get you somewhere…" She trailed off, optics wide.

"Elita?" Chromia said.

Elita collapsed forward, and Chromia caught her, wincing.

"Hey! Ellie! What's wrong?"

Elita's optics were shuttered and she didn't seem to be conscious.

Ahead of her, the combiner shifted, then started pushing itself up. It was leaking heavily, but it raised its helm and glared at her with murderous red optics.

She tried to get up, but she couldn't lift Elita.

The combiner collapsed again, but kept struggling to get up.

Ironhide was hurt worse now… He was scared.

Prowl commed her, and she answered immediately.

" _Where the frag did you go?"_ she growled.

" _Is Elita all right? I can't reach her."_

" _She passed out, and there's a combiner and Ironhide's dying,_ do _something!"_

" _Help is on the way,"_ Prowl said. _"For you, at least. Ironhide went into the Decepticons' base of operations alone, and I don't think I can get to him."_

" _What!"_

The combiner was trying to get up again.

Elita stirred in Chromia's arms.

"Ellie? Come on, Ellie, wake up, I can't carry you."

Elita started glowing. She opened too-bright optics and stared off into some distance Chromia couldn't see. Light came from the cracks between her armor plating as well. It looked like it was coming from her spark chamber

"Ellie!"

What the frag was happening?

She felt Ironhide reach out to her over the bond with an apology.

The combiner labored to its knees.

No…

Elita stopped glowing. Her optics went back to a normal brightness. She blinked, then pushed away from Chromia, looking disoriented.

"Elita, get down!"

Just as she said that, an explosion hit the combiner from behind and it fell forward again with a crash.

When the sound faded, Chromia heard engines, and then a group of Autobots led by Ultra Magnus drove around the collapsed giant.

He transformed and approached them. "Commander Elita One," he said, nodding deferentially. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Elita replied softly. "I feel fine." She shuttered her optics. "I'm not hurt."

The ground trembled, then shook violently.

Chromia gritted her denta as she was jostled around by the bucking road. Several Autobots fell to their knees. Elita sank to the ground, kneeling next to Chromia.

She heard crashing—buildings collapsing—twisting, shrieking metal.

The shaking seemed to go on forever.

* * *

The sounds of explosions from above stopped.

Autoceptor turned to look back down the hall. They'd taken cover under the stage once the seekers had started bombing the roof. The whole place had collapsed, and there were a lot of soldiers buried under the rubble, but someone had found a hidden door under the stage that led down into the lower levels of the city-state. They'd been able to get a good portion of the prisoners out that way.

"What?" Hound said, coming up beside him.

"They've stopped," Autoceptor said. "We can go back and look for survivors."

A few of the Autobots further in the tunnel stopped too.

Then the ground trembled.

Autoceptor frowned. Maybe they hadn't quit bombing the auditorium after all…

The shaking intensified, and Autoceptor stumbled to the side and had to grab a nearby support pillar to stay upright. He held on, waiting for it to be over. He'd never felt shaking like this before, not even after Vos had fallen. He could hear shouting and confusion down the tunnel too—this was huge…

It stopped, eventually, and Autoceptor pushed away from the pillar, scowling.

"What the frag…"

The constant, unfailing lights that ran like veins through the lower levels of the city—the lights powered by the Core itself—went out, plunging the tunnel into blackness.

* * *

Megatron buried his blade deep in the Autobot commander's frame, relishing the pain on the mech's faceplate as he was pinned to the wall.

It had been a surprisingly difficult fight, but it had ended predictably.

Just like the war was about to end. Megatron could see it in Ironhide's optics as the mech glared bitterly at him.

It was all over.

Megatron smirked. "You're a worthy opponent. If we were in the arena, I'd offer you mercy." He turned his arm, twisting the blade.

Ironhide gasped, arching his back.

"But as it is…"

He trailed off as he heard a groundbridge open behind him.

Wasn't there a groundbridge shield up? Had the Autobots taken it down?

"Megatron!"

He stopped.

He knew that voice.

All right then.

Megatron pulled his blade free from Ironhide's chassis and let the Autobot commander slump to the ground. Then he turned to face his new opponent.

"Finally decided to show up, Pax? It took you _much_ longer to come help your friends than to come to the Council's aid. I wonder what that says about..." he trailed off.

Something was wrong.

This mech looked like Orion—same colors, same faceplate, same bright blue optics.

But he was taller, sturdier.

And even more than that, Megatron had never seen that cold, unforgiving hardness in the mech's optics.

"What..." Megatron said.

"You have lost this battle." the mech said. "Your forces are scattered and surrounded."

His voice wasn't quite right either. What had happened?

"Surrender, and I will call a cease-fire and allow all of your soldiers to walk free."

Megatron stared. "You... _really_ think I'd surrender to _you_?"

The mech who wasn't quite Orion stared evenly at him.

But a change in attitude wouldn't save him. The librarian was no match for him in combat. It didn't matter if Megatron's forces were losing—he could still win by killing Orion.

The mech had made the same foolish mistake that Ironhide had.

Megatron rushed forward, raising his energon-stained blade.

Optimus pulled a sword of his own from subspace and blocked Megatron's first three attacks effortlessly.

Megatron fell back, staring.

This wasn't...

This _couldn't_ be Orion.

He narrowed his optics. "Who… who are you?"

"I am Optimus Prime," the mech said solemnly. "I have spoken with Primus and he bestowed the Matrix of Leadership upon me."

A chill ran down Megatron's back. "No..."

Optimus Prime met his optics calmly. "Cybertron is in peril. We cannot waste resources fighting. Surrender, and we can work together to save our world."

Megatron shook his helm. This could not be. All of his work to secure the Key to Vector Sigma—all of his plans...

"Megatron."

"No!" Megatron roared, charging forward, trying to knock his foe off balance. The Prime was forced to retreat, step by step. Megatron grinned. He could still win. He was still the stronger fighter. Maybe this was better anyway. There was no challenge—no thrill—in fighting a Hall of Records clerk. But to fight and kill a Prime…

The ground heaved harder beneath his pedes and Megatron lost his footing.

Optimus didn't miss the opportunity, and in a moment, Megatron felt his legs swept out from beneath him.

He hit the ground hard, and when his vision cleared, the shaking had stopped and the newly-empowered Prime's blade was resting against his chest, right above his spark.

He looked into Optimus's hard optics and saw a different way the war might end this orn.

This couldn't be happening.

He was supposed to win.

It had been a fluke. He'd been winning before that quake.

He stared up at Optimus, who met his gaze unfeelingly.

Astroseconds ticked by.

"Well," Megatron said. "What are you waiting for?"

The Prime took in a deep vent. "If you surrender, and disband the Decepticons, I will grant you amnesty."

Megatron blinked, surprised. He was at the mech's mercy, and surely Optimus knew he couldn't be trusted.

Why grant him mercy?

He hesitated, then took a gamble. "I won't," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"You will be tried for your crimes against Cybertron," Optimus said.

"You won't kill me?"

"Not unless it becomes necessary."

Megatron smirked. "You're still soft. Still weak on the inside, aren't you?"

Optimus's expression flickered. For a moment, he was Orion again.

But the tip of his sword was still resting on Megatron's chest.

And he'd still won this round.

Megatron had no desire to be taken prisoner.

"Why don't we make a deal?" he said.

Optimus was silent.

"I know you don't want to kill me, and I'll never surrender to you. Why don't you let me go? I'll retreat with my forces and no one else has to die this orn."

No answer. He could tell the Prime was considering it, though.

"I'll give you this," Megatron reached into subspace and pulled out the Key to Vector Sigma. "If you still want it."

Optimus pulled his sword away. "Very well," he said, and reached down to help Megatron to his pedes.

Megatron got up, forcing himself to smirk. He hated accepting mercy from this mech. "Even now that you don't need it, you can't resist a powerful artifact, can you?" He held up the Key.

"That is a sacred relic," Optimus said sternly. "And you are not worthy to possess it. But it is not the reason I am allowing you to leave."

"Of course," Megatron said, and walked past the Prime toward the door.

"Megatron! Give me the Key."

Megatron stopped. "You're a fool, Optimus Prime," he said.

He tossed the key to the side and shot it while it was still in the atmosphere. Then he walked past Ironhide's crumpled form and strolled down the hall into his makeshift command center, scowling.

He ought to go back and fight Optimus again. He might still win...

But the mech's transformation was unsettling, and Megatron needed time to think—time to reconsider his plans.

He'd never expected Orion to _actually_ get the Matrix.

This changed everything.

"Sir," one of his tacticians said. "We're losing—"

"I know," Megatron said. "It is time to return to Kaon." He glanced over his shoulder. "We'll make it back here some orn. But it might take longer than I anticipated."

* * *

Elita stumbled wearily toward the courtyard, supporting Chromia, who could barely stand on her own.

She knew they had won, but it felt hollow.

Two things were true.

First, the Core had gone dark. She had felt it. For one moment, she'd been connected to Primus—for one moment she'd felt the Great Creator dying.

And then nothing.

Second, Orion was gone.

He wasn't dead. She could feel him through the bond.

But he was so different… It wasn't him anymore.

When he'd left her back in Nova Cronum, he really had left her forever.

And now she wasn't sure what to do. She was still bonded to him, but it was strange, uncomfortable. She knew he was here, somewhere nearby. But she didn't want to talk to him. She didn't know how to feel. Betrayed, resigned, horrified…?

They'd nearly reached the edge of the makeshift camp when Chromia lurched away from her, stumbling to the side.

"Hey!" Elita said, chasing after her sister. "What…"

Chromia sank to her knees with a frustrated shout of pain, just as Elita caught up to her.

"Chromia, what…"

She followed her injured sister's gaze and froze.

He was here.

The stranger she was bonded to was carrying Ironhide into the camp. She watched as he handed the unconscious mech off to a couple of medics.

"Ironhide…" Chromia sobbed.

Right. "Come on," Elita said, and helped Chromia up. "Let's go make sure he's okay."

She helped her sister over to the berth where the medics were frantically tying off energon lines and putting the big red warrior on spark support.

Elita backed away and stood still, not sure what to do, not wanting to look at the mech standing beside her.

"Elita," he said solemnly.

She took in a deep vent. "Optimus Prime, I presume."

His voice was the same, but different. Still rich and warm, but older. Centivorns older.

"Yes," he said, feeling uncomfortable. "You disregarded my decision and attacked Megatron. You put yourself in danger."

"Yeah?" she huffed. "Well… you… took the Matrix. Without even…"

She turned to look at him and was held captive for a moment by his piercing blue optics.

"I did what I had to," Optimus said.

"So did I," Elita replied. "Prime, Sir."

His optics were the same exact color, and he looked so similar, just larger, harder, more intimidating.

Another wave of sorrow washed over her.

His expression softened slightly, and he sent a gentle feeling of reassurance over the bond.

It made her feel sick. Orion was gone, and she was _not_ comfortable with this mech feeling her emotions.

"I am sorry," he said.

"It's fine, Sir," Elita said, taking some twisted comfort in how much he still hated being called 'Sir' "I just… need some time to think. Excuse me."

She turned and fled back the way she'd come. She couldn't do this. His emotions over the bond were like listening to the wrong instrument playing a familiar song.

And she couldn't escape from it, no matter what she did.

* * *

Prowl stepped through the groundbridge and Blaster followed him with all his symbiots. The rest of Prowl's team was still back in Nova Cronum, getting ready to move here and giving assignments to various units.

Optimus stood at the top of the stairs, in front of the shattered, broken front doors of the Hall of Records. Prowl and Blaster approached him and he turned to face them.

Prowl hesitated.

He knew Orion had received the Matrix, but he hadn't expected such a dramatic difference in the way the mech held himself.

The Prime smiled sadly. "Prowl."

"Optimus Prime," Prowl bowed.

"Please, don't," the Prime said quickly.

Prowl hesitated, then stood up straight again, feeling marginally more comfortable. "Still in there, are you?"

"To some extent, yes," Optimus said. "But either way, there is no need to bow. As usual, we owe the victory this orn to you."

"Actually," Prowl said. "We owe the victory to this mechling. Prime, this is Blaster."

Optimus looked confused for an astrosecond, but then a light dawned in his optics and he nodded. "It's good to meet you," he knelt.

Blaster frowned at him. "I… can't hear you."

Optimus nodded. "I believe that is because I am a Prime."

"And you've already met me," Blaster said. "Don't you remember?"

Optimus looked down. "I do not," he said. "Were you one of the sparklings in the city?"

"Yes," Blaster said. "Until they made me a telepath. But then you saved me—you and Soundwave."

"I have lost some of my memories," Optimus said solemnly. "I'm afraid I can no longer recall the events you allude to. And… I understand if you are unable to trust me. Once he could no longer read me, Soundwave was unable to do so."

Blaster seemed to study the Prime's faceplate and Prowl was worried for a moment. If the mechling chose the same path as his mentor...

"I want to join the Autobots," Blaster said.

"Thank you," Optimus replied. "We would be glad to have your help some orn, when you are old enough."

"No," Blaster said. "I want to join now… sir."

There was a flicker of emotion in Optimus's optics.

"He saved my life this orn," Prowl said. "Soundwave came to kill me, but Blaster showed up and chased him off."

"You have guardians," Optimus said. "They must be worried about you."

"They didn't want me to come," Blaster said. "They don't like you—Cam doesn't, at least.

Optimus nodded. "Nevertheless, they do have a right and responsibility to protect you. We will keep you safe until you can return to them, and I will attempt to convince them to let you stay with us. You will become a target—even more than you were before—because of your involvement in this battle."

Blaster nodded.

"However, you cannot join our army until you are of age."

Blaster looked down, pouting slightly.

"He's right, you know," one of Blaster's mech-shaped symbiots said softly.

"Furthermore," Optimus said. "I cannot condone you running away from your guardians."

"I'm sorry," the youngling said.

Optimus's gaze softened. "With your permission, I'll have them contacted and let them know where you are so they can come for you."

Blaster nodded.

"And I am very grateful to you for saving Prowl's life. We are all in your debt."

Blaster looked up again. "You are different," he said. "But I couldn't always read mecha, and I trusted you before that. I think you're still good. Soundwave… I can't believe he was going to... As much as I owe him for helping me, he's getting people hurt… it's not what… it's not right."

"Again, thank you," Optimus said. "Prowl, will you find somewhere for him to stay for now? There is someone else I must speak to."

* * *

I transformed and landed, then walked into the base. Megatron was waiting for me in the command center. I'd sent my symbiots through a groundbridge but wanted the flying time to decide what I was going to say. I had failed him—I had run like a coward.

And I had been relieved. There had been a moment when I could have done it. I could have pulled my range in and shot him and killed him. And I still didn't know if I would have gone through with it.

I couldn't lie to Megatron and blame it all on Blaster, because next time he might send me after Blaster. I had to explain things and then just deal with the consequences.

Megatron looked up when I came in. He wasn't injured, thankfully, but he was also _not_ in a good mood.

"Soundwave," he said. "I hope you were successful."

"No," I said.

He narrowed his optics. "What happened?"

"Blaster was there," I said. "Laserbeak got hurt."

"The other telepath was there?" Megatron said. "The youngling?"

"Yes."

"And he overpowered you and you ran like a coward, didn't you? I thought I could trust you!"

"Yes," I repeated. I had told him before that Blaster was stronger than me.

 _We'll have to do something about him. And I didn't really like the tone in your voice…_

"I am not an assassin," I said.

He stared at me.

"I will do many things for you, but I will not kill for you."

"Why? Because you're afraid?"

"Because I'm not a killer."

Megatron snorted. "Yes you are. You just don't have the bearings to do it in person."

I met his gaze evenly and was a little surprised to find I actually was afraid of him. "I don't know if I can take that step without losing myself. I have to have rules. I'm too powerful. I will help you. I will keep your base safe from spies and gather i-information and weed out traitors. I will help you tear down the Council system. I'll help you de-efeat the Autobots. But I will not ki-ill for you, and I-if y-you can't li-i-ive with that, y-you'll have to ge-et rid o-of me."

Aside from the stutter, I sounded perfectly calm and emotionless. He stared at me. _And he finally speaks his processor. Now I have to decide what to do about it._

I expected him to be angry. No one talked to him like that—not anyone.

But he wasn't angry. In fact, he was almost hurt. "I told you, Soundwave," he said. "If I ever asked you to do anything you weren't comfortable doing, you could talk to me about it."

I took in a deep vent and let it out.

 _I can't lose him. Especially since Orion has the Matrix. Soundwave is too important_ — _without him the war is as good as lost._ "Soundwave, you are my most trusted advisor. If I only valued you as a resource, I might be tempted to get rid of you, or have Shockwave mess with your programming. What you've just said to me would have ended in death for anyone else, and I warn you I will not permit disrespect. But you aren't just a resource—surely you know that. Blind loyalty is only slightly better than no loyalty, but despite your lack of optics, you are anything but blind. You see everything—you hear everything. You know me better than I know myself. You know _exactly_ what I am and still you are loyal—still you trust me and follow me. That is not something I can replace or afford to lose. If you feel so strongly about it, then I will not send you to kill anyone again."

I knelt. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," Megatron said. "You are dismissed. See to Laserbeak's injuries and then return here. We still have to deal with Blackangle and I want you present for that."

I nodded and left, feeling shaky and surprised.

But I shouldn't have forgotten who he still was, under all of the darkness and wrongness. And while he'd always been reckless, he wasn't stupid, not really. He still knew he needed my help.

And he would always be able to count on it, no matter what.

* * *

Orion drove through the streets of Iacon, seeing the city around him in a new light. The wisdom of the Primes was like a sixth sense. There was something new and familiar around every corner—something he'd heard before in every word spoken by the mecha around him—something recognizable in every situation. He felt as if he had lived a hundred lifetimes that he couldn't quite remember.

Speaking to Megatron and demanding his surrender had felt familiar. Watching Elita run off after their conversation had felt familiar. Being introduced to Blaster felt familiar. He wasn't sure what that meant, though, only that it was somewhat easier to figure out what to say, what to do, how to act.

Of course, he'd already made mistakes, which was concerning. He was certain he'd said the wrong things to Elita. He needed to find her and talk to her again, but he wanted to give her some time to think first. He could tell she was very uncomfortable with the changes he had undergone.

He had the memories of the Primes as well—a vast library of thoughts and experiences and histories that the mild, studious part of him was itching to explore.

But he didn't have time for that yet.

There were many things to do. They had to find somewhere to stay until the construction on their new base was completed. They had to help rebuild many roads that led to the central sector of Iacon. Optimus had to speak with his soldiers, and redouble his efforts to recruit mecha from around the globe.

He had allowed Megatron to live—to retreat freely.

He could have ended the war, but he had chosen not to. Had that been the right choice? Killing Megatron had felt wrong—especially because Primus had suggested the warlord could be redeemed. And if he hadn't let Megatron go, more mecha would have offlined.

There had been enough killing this orn.

Optimus transformed and walked through the front door of his destination, not unaware of the hush that filled the room, but surprised that there were so many mecha here.

Just a joor after the Decepticon retreat, Maccadam's was bustling.

He approached the counter. The bartender stared at him with wide optics.

"Is Maccadam here?" he asked.

"Um… yes. Hold on a breem." He put a finger to the side of his helm to signify he was sending a comm.

Optimus waited.

"Um… he says you can meet him in the back, down the stairs from his office. Do you know where…"

"Yes, thank you," Optimus said and walked past the mech and through the door to the back.

Maccadam was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"Optimus Prime," he said, nodding deferentially. "Thank you for coming."

Optimus frowned. "You didn't ask me to come."

"I'm grateful anyway," Maccadam said, turning and gesturing for Optimus to follow him.

They went down the hall and entered a large room, where several mecha were sitting. Optimus recognized them, even the ones he hadn't seen before. The Primes—Logos, Micronus, Quintus, Amalgamous, Liege Maximo… And Alchemist—Maccadam.

Only half of them.

"What happened to Primus?" Liege Maximo demanded, glaring accusingly at Optimus.

"He… is offline," Optimus said. Primus had insisted that he tell everyone except for Alpha Trion that Primus was dead.

But where was Alpha Trion?

Logos sighed, lowering his helm. "Then we're doomed."

"He said he had provided a way for us to survive," Optimus said.

"Did he say _what_ exactly?" Micronus asked.

"No," Optimus said. "I can only assume we will know when the time comes."

"Did he tell you what was wrong with him?" Quintus asked. "He… we went to the Core and we could see he was ill, but we couldn't figure out what was wrong."

"He told me that the reason for and nature of his illness was not my burden to bear," Optimus said.

The Primes around the table looked at each other.

"Does that mean something to you?" Optimus asked.

"Perhaps we're supposed to investigate it," Quintus said.

"Once we've hunted down that Unicron-spawn, Megatronus," Liege Maximo growled. "We can't forget about him."

"This might be more important," Logos said.

Optimus looked at Maccadam, whose helm was bowed.

"Don't start bickering," Micronus snapped. "Or I'm leaving."

Amalgamous snorted. "Us? Bicker?"

Liege glared at Micronus. "You've got some nerve telling _us_ not to bicker. Besides, you can't leave. Primus is _dead_ and we have to figure out what to do about it."

"We should wait for Alpha Trion," Logos said. "He knows the Covenant better than any of us, and he might have some insight into what happens next."

"Where is Alpha Trion?" Optimus asked. "And… where is Solus Prime?"

The others all looked down.

Maccadam spoke. "Solus… is dead,"

Optimus shuttered his optics. He'd barely met her, but the Matrix made him feel as if he'd known her for a very long time.

"Alpha Trion… well, come see."

Optimus followed Maccadam out of the room. They walked down the hall and around the corner, and then Maccadam stopped and buried his faceplate in his hands.

Optimus waited for a few moments and then, not entirely sure what to do, he reached out and put a hand on the older mech's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Maccadam choked. "I didn't… think we'd actually lose Primus too. After everything… after Onyx and Prima and Solus… this means… this means none of them are ever coming back."

"Alchemist?" Optimus said.

Maccadam took in a deep vent and put his hands down, but didn't look at Optimus.

"Alchemist?"

"Yes?"

"There is hope, for everything."

Silence stretched out for several long astroseconds.

"Thank you," Maccadam said. "Now, come with me."

He led Optimus to his medical office, where Alpha Trion was lying on a berth, hooked up to a spark support machine. He was covered in temp plating, and lay still and silent.

"When Megatron attacked Iacon, our brother, Megatronus, was fighting with his soldiers. They attacked the Hall of Records, and he killed Solus. He left Alpha Trion alive for some reason. He was badly damaged, and he nearly offlined, but Quintus and I managed to save him."

Optimus looked down at his former mentor. His personal memories of this mech were few, but he knew they had been close.

He was glad Alpha Trion was still online.

"When he wakes, I'll let you know," Maccadam said.

"Thank you."

"It probably won't be for a few orns."

Optimus nodded. "Once he is conscious, I will come and visit him."

"Good," Maccadam said.

"There is something else."

"Yes?"

Optimus hesitated, then reached into subspace and pulled out the mangled Key to Vectory Sigma. "I fought Megatron this orn, and… he destroyed this."

"Huh," Maccadam accepted the broken key and studied it for a moment. "It's not that bad. I can repair it."

"You can?"

Maccadam smiled sadly. "Normally I couldn't, but we have Solus's Forge."

The image of a large hammer appeared in his processor, along with the hint of a memory. Solus's voice, instructing him on how to use the Forge. The weight of the tool in his hands. She must have loaned it to a previous Prime.

"So yes, I'll keep it until I have time to repair it. For now, I'm sure you have things to do…" Maccadam shuttered his optics and shook his helm. "How are you holding up, by the way?"

Optimus hesitated, then spoke honestly. "I… don't know. I feel all right, but… confused, and afraid. It's overwhelming…"

"You'll get used to it," Maccadam said.

Optimus thought about Elita's reaction to seeing him. "I am worried my friends won't trust me now that I have changed."

Maccadam finally met Optimus's optics. "My friend," he said solemnly. "Don't start believing that lie. You will _always_ be Orion Pax. And you have _always_ been Optimus Prime. They'll see that eventually, just be patient with them while they get used to the changes."

"Thank you," Optimus said.

"Now," Maccadam smiled tiredly. "I've got to go talk my siblings into staying here until we figure out what we're going to do. Let me know if you need anything."

"And you," Optimus said. "If there's anything I can do to help…"

"You can get out there and be the Prime Cybertron needs," Maccadam said. "I'm sure that'll keep you plenty busy."

Optimus looked down at Alpha Trion, feeling guilty.

"What?"

"What if… what if I can't save Cybertron? What if my actions destroy everything?"

Maccadam was silent for a few astroseconds. "In my experience… it's better to try and to fail than to abandon hope from the beginning."

Optimus wasn't sure.

"Primus chose you," Maccadam said. "Don't doubt yourself."

"I will try," Optimus said.

"Good," Maccadam took in a deep vent. "I'll see you soon."

Optimus nodded and left the room, then climbed the stairs and returned to the familiar streets of Iacon, where he and his predecessors had spent many collective lifetimes.

He could still remember the demolished neighborhoods from Primus's Trial, and he knew that some orn, despite his best efforts—perhaps _because_ of them—his beautiful home might be destroyed.

But he would fight for it anyway, to the bitter end.


	60. For the Future

Jazz woke suddenly, but didn't move. He kept his optics shuttered, listening, trying to retrieve his most recent memories.

He didn't hurt much, which he had to admit was nice, and the last thing he remembered… was Prowl and Orion and Ironhide finding him in the hall in the Decepticon base in Kaon.

Good news all around. He wasn't dead, and chances were he wasn't with the Decepticons anymore.

So, he un-shuttered his optics and sat up, to find he didn't recognize the room he was in.

Medical berth, spark monitor, medical tools, cheap floor tiles, plain gray walls. It didn't feel like a hospital, but it also wasn't Ratchet's office.

Hmm…

Jazz managed to disconnect himself from the spark monitor and got up off the berth. He supposed he _could_ be a prisoner still. But this place didn't look like any kind of prison cell. The style of the room seemed vaguely familiar, now that he thought about it… had he been here before?

He'd have to go exploring. The door was locked, but not very well. Jazz was about finished hacking it when he heard loud, angry pedesteps outside. He backed away, suddenly nervous, and grabbed for the nearest weapon-like thing.

The door slammed open. "What are you doing!" Ratchet demanded.

Jazz froze, then forced himself to relax. "Hey, Ratch."

Ratchet glared at him. "Put that down."

"Oh, yeah," Jazz set the razor-sharp scalpel off to the side. "Yeah, sorry, mech, I was just… um…"

Ratchet huffed and scanned him. "Did you do a full systems diagnostic? Is everything working?"

"Yeah, I did that," Jazz lied. Everything _did_ seem to be working fine, and if it wasn't he'd find out soon enough without having to bother with diagnostics. "How long have I been out?"

"Not long enough," Ratchet said. "Here." He pulled a cube of energon out of subspace. "This is medical grade, so it'll be easy on your systems. I repaired or replaced everything that was damaged, but you shouldn't have normal energon for a few orns, and I guarantee if you drink high grade you'll bring it back up, so don't even think about it."

Jazz tipped his helm back and swallowed a mouthful of energon. It felt good going down—kind of soothing. "Frag, that's good. Ratchet, you're a life saver, anymech ever tell ya that?"

Ratchet rolled his optics.

Jazz drained the rest of the cube and set it to the side. "Thanks, mech, I'll see ya around." He made for the door.

"Not yet," Ratchet said, but Jazz slipped out and ducked around the nearest corner.

He _did_ recognize this place, he realized. They'd stayed in this building for a couple of orns back before the war, after they'd been kicked out of Perceptor's house, but before 'Raj had shown up to invite them to his tower.

So why were they back here?

Jazz stopped, and waited around the corner to hear if Ratchet was coming after him. The mech did emerge from his office but, fortunately, he went stomping off the other direction.

Jazz vented a quiet sigh of relief. Then he started down the hall again. He needed to find someone who could tell him what was going on and why they were here. Someone who wouldn't insist he go back to Ratchet's office. He felt fine, and he _definitely_ didn't need a check-up.

He commed Mirage.

The noblemech responded quickly. _"Jazz, you're back online."_

" _Yep, Ratchet's after me, though. Ya know anywhere safe ta hide?"_

Mirage was silent for a few astroseconds, and then sent him a map with a room marked.

Jazz thanked him and made his way through the building, trying to avoid being noticed. He did run into a couple of mecha, but managed to stay away from Ratchet, and that was what he really cared about. He needed a break from medical equipment and angry mecha for a while.

He found the door of the room 'Raj had marked on the map and slipped in.

"Aw, pit," he said.

Mainspring looked up from his desk. "Jazz!"

One of the mecha who'd probably send him straight back to Ratchet. Thanks, 'Raj.

"You're online. How are you?"

"I feel great, mech," Jazz sat and shut the door behind himself before going to sit down across from his co-department head. "How about you?"

"Good," Mainspring said. "I…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry. You made such a big deal about being careful about Makeshift… I did try, and I was a little suspicious, but I should have done something. Especially because _he_ wasn't making a big deal about proving who he was. He answered the questions I asked, and he had your comm, but…"

Jazz raised a hand to tap the side of his helm. "Did ya get it back, or is this new?"

"It's new," Mainspring said. "We got your codes transferred to it, though, while you were unconscious. I'm so sorry. I should have known…"

"It's okay, mech, really," Jazz tried to smile encouragingly. It was still strange to think that the mecha here actually cared whether he was all right.

"I should have been more careful. We wouldn't have lost Iacon—we would have tried to rescue you..."

"We lost Iacon?" Jazz said. "Frag, but… this _is_ Iacon… ain't it?"

"Yes. We got it back," Mainspring said.

"Huh," Jazz shook his helm. " _How_ long was I out?"

"Only about four orns." Mainspring said. "But a lot has happened. Are… you sure you're all right?"

"Eh," Jazz said, "Feels kinda surreal, ya know? I was starting ta worry I wouldn't make it back, and then suddenly here I am. I'm fine, though. I don't want ya ta worry about me. I… cope pretty well with stuff like this."

Mainspring nodded, though he didn't look quite convinced.

"Ya gonna tell me what happened?"

"Actually, we're having a meeting in a few breems, so I can explain generally what happened, but I don't have time to give you the full story… you can come to the meeting if you want to, though."

Jazz hesitated, then nodded.

* * *

Optimus watched his friends trickle in to the large conference room as the time for the meeting drew closer.

He was nervous about this—more nervous than he'd ever been at the prospect of conducting a meeting.

Wasn't the Matrix supposed to make him stronger?

Wasn't it supposed to help him lead?

So far, it seemed to be doing the opposite. His friends—these mecha who had trusted him and stood by him for as long as he could remember—had treated him like a stranger for the past several orns. He couldn't blame them for their hesitance to trust him, of course. He couldn't deny that he was different than he'd been before. And, while Maccadam had told him they would get used to him, he hadn't had much time to spend with them since the Core had gone dark.

It didn't help that some of them were avoiding him. Elita sat three chairs away from him, arranging and rearranging her datapads and refusing to look up from the table. Ironhide, who was still recovering from his injuries, had decided to sit all the way across the unnecessarily large conference room until Chromia had gone to drag him back toward the rest of the group.

The others were acting differently as well. Red Alert was always on edge, but he seemed especially jumpy, and kept halfway glancing toward Optimus before looking away again, Ultra Magnus had been even more deferential and respectful than usual, and the one time Optimus had tried to talk to Ratchet since receiving the Matrix, the medic had seemed almost shy.

At least Prowl was acting normal. Then again, Optimus wasn't sure whether he'd be able to tell if Prowl was uncomfortable around him, because the Praxian was stiff and formal in almost all situations.

He had to fix this—things couldn't continue this way.

He needed to say something to bring them back. They had to trust him if they were going to work together.

Mainspring came in, followed by…

"Jazz!" Ratchet said. " _There_ you are."

Everyone turned suddenly to look at the black and white mech as he approached the table. He looked remarkably well-recovered, except for a few still-healing burns on his faceplate.

"You're back!" Ironhide said. "Frag, mech, are you all right?"

"Yeah," Jazz took an empty seat next to Ironhide, which was also conveniently far away from Ratchet and close to the door. "I feel great. Kinda glad I slept through all the scrap that went down here."

"Welcome back," Optimus said. "It is good to see you recovering."

"Thanks…" Jazz trailed off, staring at him.

"Oh," Mainspring said quickly. "I forgot to tell you Optimus got the Matrix."

"Huh." Jazz crossed his arms and met Optimus's gaze with a wary expression. "Did ya get the key, then?"

"No," Optimus said. "Though I did take it from Megatron later. I will explain what happened during the meeting."

"Okay," Jazz said, and sat back in his chair, still watching Optimus thoughtfully.

"Now that we are all here, we can begin," Optimus said, and looked around the silent room.

No one would meet his optics.

He took in a deep vent and continued. "First, we are experiencing logistical difficulties because the apartment buildings where our soldiers were staying are largely destroyed. Red Alert, what is the status of our new base?"

"We can't move in yet," Red Alert said. "And we can only rush construction so much before we get sloppy."

Optimus nodded. "Do we know how long it will be before the base is complete?"

Red Alert tapped his fingers on the table. "A few quartex," he said. "Two or three at least."

"Is that long enough to justify looking for another temporary base?" Chromia asked. "I mean, this building's not that bad, and it's much larger than Mirage's tower. We can use a few of the other floors for the soldiers..."

"It's a nightmare to deploy out of," Prowl said.

"And the security is terrible," Red Alert put in. "It would almost be better to make a camp by our groundbridge station and stay there."

Optimus nodded. "We will remain here for the present, but we should look into securing a better place while we wait for our permanent base of operations. Elita, Chromia, will you work together on that?"

Both of them nodded, though Elita still wouldn't look at him, and Chromia's expression bordered on hostile.

"Thank you," Optimus said. "Prowl, will you report on casualties and the current status of our army?"

Prowl nodded. "Our numbers were significantly decreased by Megatron's attack on Iacon, and then we lost many more when we reclaimed the city-state. However, since taking back the city-state, I believe recruitment has gone up. We're still not anywhere close to Megatron's numbers, so we still need to step up our recruitment tactics, but we've already replaced all of the soldiers we lost in the last two battles."

Optimus nodded. "I will redouble my efforts to find new recruits."

"Thank you."

Optimus glanced around the room. "Are there any other pressing matters we must address before I share what I learned from my audience with Primus?"

He waited.

Ironhide looked as if he was about to say something, but then he shook his helm and looked away.

"Very well," Optimus took a deep vent. He couldn't tell them everything, especially since some of the mecha here didn't know about the trials. But there were some things they deserved to know.

He told them what Primus had said about the energon reserves on Cybertron, and the eventual need to leave the planet. He told them that Primus had promised an eventual solution to the fuel crisis, but that he did not know what it was.

He told them how Primus had given him the Matrix—how it had been his only opportunity to receive it.

Then he let the room fall to silence.

"So the Core's gone dark?" Jazz said at length. "Permanently?"

Optimus nodded.

"How are mecha taking that?" Jazz said. "I mean…"

"Not great," Chromia said. "There's been widespread panic, though we've got things mostly under control in Iacon. And Megatron's actually been using the problem to his advantage. The southern half of the planet's where most of the energon mines are, and he controls Kaon, Tarn, _and_ Tesarus."

Elita spoke quietly. "Mecha are joining him out of fear now. They think he'll supply them with energon when everyone else has run out."

Jazz scowled at the table.

"However," Optimus said. "I believe there are many mecha who would join us if we invited them to—if they understood."

"Have ya announced ta the world that ya have the Matrix?" Jazz said. "That gives us more credibility."

"We have not hidden the fact," Optimus said. "But I have… needed time to decide what I should say when I do speak to the public."

"Right," Jazz said. "I guess it's only been a few orns. Frag, a _lot_ happened while I was out."

"Indeed," Optimus said. "If it is not too painful to talk about… were you able to learn anything about Megatron's plans while you were a prisoner in Kaon?"

"Frag, yeah," Jazz said. "I learned more from Starscream than he learned from me, that's for certain."

"Starscream?" Optimus said. "That designation is familiar. Is that the seeker…"

"Yeah," Jazz said. "He's Megatron's… I don't know, he _said_ he was second in command, but I don't think that can be possible, cuz he's kind of an idiot. I wish I could have reported the info about the trap and the attack on Iacon before it happened, but I did learn some other things from him that might be useful."

Jazz launched into an explanation of current Decepticon politics and plans. When he was finished, Optimus asked for brief reports from the rest of the mecha in the room, and then the meeting was over. As everyone was getting up, Optimus remembered that he'd wanted to ask them all if he could speak with them privately this orn. But both Jazz and Ironhide were out the door already, and everyone else was filing out after them.

He could just comm. them and ask them later.

He did catch up to Elita, though, as she was leaving the room.

"Elita?"

She stopped in the doorway, and finally turned to look at him.

"I would like to speak with you privately some time this orn." Optimus said softly. "If that's all right?"

She took in a deep vent. "Yes," she said, sounding resigned. "We… do need to talk, don't we?"

He nodded.

"I'll be free in about four joors."

"Very well. I'll be in my office."

She nodded curtly and left. Optimus watched her go, sorrowful. He knew she was hurting and lonely, just as much as he was. And the worst part was that he couldn't do anything about it.

But maybe it was better this way.

He'd rather lose her now than put her in danger in the future.

* * *

Megatron watched his generals file out of the room. Straxus would head back to Tarn, while Overlord took up his position in Tesarus again. The seeker generals lived here.

The meeting had gone as well as could be expected. No one was happy with the way the Iacon campaign had gone. They hadn't openly spoken against Megatron but he could tell.

He glanced at Soundwave, wondering if he was right.

The mech nodded.

The last few mecha filed out of the room, leaving one behind.

"You… wanted me to stay, my liege?"

"Yes, Starscream," Megatron glared at the seeker. "I have a few more items of business to deal with this orn, and I'd like you to accompany me."

Starscream bowed nervously, "Of course, your lordship."

The seeker hadn't followed Megatron's orders exactly, and while Megatron hadn't decided how to punish him yet, he _did_ want to show the seeker a few examples of what happened to those who disobeyed him.

He led the way out of the meeting room with Soundwave and Starscream trailing behind him. They crossed the base and went down to the underground prison.

Megatron gestured for some guards standing by the doors to follow him as he entered the high security cell block. He stopped in front of the last cell on the row.

"Blackangle," he said.

The stasis-cuffed prisoner looked up casually. He was obviously trying to appear unconcerned, but Megatron could see the fear in his optics. "Good orn, Megatron." he said, and Megatron was impressed at how steady his voice was, but still not willing to play that game.

"I don't have the patience for pleasantries this orn," he said.

"Alright, look," Blackangle said. "You can't kill me. You'll lose Quantum. They're loyal to me, not you."

"Oh really?"

"And I know when I'm beat." He glanced at Soundwave. "I'll be loyal in the future if you set me free. I'm worth much more alive than dead."

"I think you're overestimating your lackeys," Megatron said, "Anyone who was exclusively loyal to you is now dead. The rest of Quantum seems content to follow your second in command, who was perfectly happy to step in and take over."

Blackangle's optics widened.

"Though it is true, there may be some usefulness in you yet." Megatron gestured for the guards to take him from the cell. Blackangle stood as they opened the doors, and they dragged him out.

"What are you going to do with me?" he asked.

"Soundwave gave me a good idea with the senator he captured," Megatron said. "Shockwave needs test subjects."

"No!" Blackangle said. "I swear, Megatron, I'll serve you loyally. Please—"

"No," Megatron said. "I don't want false loyalty, Blackangle, especially not from a powerful mech like yourself. I want real loyalty, lasting loyalty, eternal, all-consuming loyalty."

The mech shook his helm.

"Fortunately, I think our head scientist knows how to instill that sort of loyalty in mecha. Something he learned in the Institute."

"No!" Blackangle tried to pull free, but the guards held him back. "I'll do anything! You can't do this! You can't…"

"Knock him out and take him to Shockwave's lab," Megatron said. "I've already sent instructions to Shockwave."

He watched as the guards stunned the traitor and carried his limp frame away.

"Now," Megatron rounded on Starscream. "Your turn. Come with me."

"Lord Megatron," Starscream pleaded. "I don't understand. I swear I have been nothing if not—"

"Come!"

Starscream glanced nervously back at Soundwave, who was bringing up the rear, and then bowed his helm meekly and followed Megatron.

Megatron left the high security cell block and made his way down another row of cells.

"No!" Starscream said. "Who told you! Who ratted me out?"

Megatron stopped in front of an occupied cell and turned to face the seeker. "Starscream, I told you to _kill_ him!" He gestured into the cell where a dark blue seeker sat, staring at the wall with his arms wrapped around his knees.

Starscream stopped, glancing up at the ceiling. "I… _did_ bring him back, though. Perhaps he can be useful to you as well."

"No," Megatron replied. "By bringing him back here, you've only lost your opportunity to make his death quick and painless."

"Please, my liege…"

Megatron turned to look at Thundercracker again, but he was still stubbornly staring at the wall.

"He can still be useful," Starscream said. "He can still be useful, I promise."

"I don't want to hear another word from you, Starscream," Megatron said. "Thundercracker?"

The prisoner didn't look at him.

"You allowed my most valuable prisoner to escape—assisted him, even. Do you deny it?"

Thundercracker didn't move.

"Answer him," Starscream said. "Tell him it wasn't you, that the Autobot tricked you…"

"No," Thundercracker said at length. "Just kill me."

"It won't be that easy," Megatron said. "I'm tempted to let you starve, maybe find you a smaller cell to wait in.

Thundercracker flinched, but still didn't look up.

"I can ensure his future loyalty," Starscream said. "Shockwave can…"

"He's not worth it," Megatron said. "I don't want Shockwave wasting time on useless, traitorous deserters."

Thundercracker finally looked up and met Megatron's optics proudly.

"Here's your sentence," Megatron said.

"Without a trial?"

"We skipped that part. I don't have the patience for it."

"There's a surprise."

Megatron growled. "Don't talk back to me, insect."

Thundercracker looked away again.

"I'll tear your wings off," he said. "I'll tear your wings off and then nail you into the smallest box you'll fit in and leave you there until you leak to death."

Thundercracker tensed, and took in a deep, shaking vent.

"You wouldn't need shadowplay," Starscream said. "You…"

"Shut up!" Megatron said, rounding on the gray and red seeker. "Or I'll do it to you too!"

Starscream stared at him, and Megatron saw an enemy in the mech's optics. A cunning, crafty enemy. Thundercracker was no use to him, but Starscream was another story. He had already proven his worth by tricking the seekers into joining the Decepticons.

Megatron couldn't afford to make an enemy of such a valuable ally.

"Very well," he said. "Speak. But you had better not say you can just talk him around."

"Well, I can't right now," Starscream said. "But under the right circumstances…" he trailed off and glared at Thundercracker. "We could erase some of his memories—just far back enough he wouldn't know about Vos, and then re-explain everything to him."

Thundercracker looked up again. "No…"

"He wasn't supposed to know about Vos in the first place. That's why he deserted."

"Thundercracker's death is meant to be a warning for you," Megatron said. "To ensure you never fail me again."

"Please, my liege."

Megatron grabbed the gray and red seeker by the throat and slammed him against the bars of the cell his trine brother was in. "I need your undying loyalty, and I need you to follow my orders _exactly."_

"I will! I promise."

Megatron let him go. "Very well. I'll let it go this time. If you want, you can wipe his memories and try to win his loyalty back."

Starscream slid down the cell bars, trembling slightly.

"But I warn you," Megatron said. "If you fail me again, you and _both_ of your brothers will die."

"I won't," Starscream said desperately. "I won't fail you. Thank you, Lord Megatron!"

Megatron turned to walk away, and Soundwave followed him.

"Starscream, wait!"

"Let go!"

Megatron glanced behind himself to see that Thundercracker had grabbed Starscream's arm through the bars.

"Screamer, don't do this," Thundercracker said. "Please."

"I'm saving your life," Starscream yanked his arm away. "You should be grateful, you glitched idiot."

"No, you can't—"

"Shut up!" Starscream said and followed Megatron, who turned and continued walking down the hall.

* * *

"Thank you for coming."

Elita carefully sat down across the table from Optimus. She wasn't sure exactly how this conversation was going to go, and that scared her, but she couldn't keep avoiding him.

It was time to face the facts and make a decision.

"Prime, Sir," she said, because she knew it bothered him, because a tiny part of her still wanted to lash out, even if it hurt her as much as it hurt him.

He met her gaze calmly, but she could feel his sorrow.

"Optimus," she revised. "Or whatever. I don't know what to call you." She couldn't bring herself to call him Orion, because he _wasn't_.

"You may call me whatever you wish to."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"I…" He hesitated, frowning, and his expression pulled at her, drew her in, made her believe for an astrosecond… And then it was gone, behind another calm mask. "I am very sorry for all that you have been through on my behalf—for all the sorrow and pain I have caused you. It is not fair to you. I know our bond is too strong to break through conventional means, but if you would like, we can try to find a way. It is not fair to you to be tied to me in this way—it puts you in unnecessary danger, and I know you do not feel about me the same way you did before I received the Matrix."

Elita stared at him.

Silence stretched too long. She didn't know what to think—didn't know what to say.

"If you need some time to think about it…"

She shook her helm. "Is that what you want?" she said.

Optimus looked away. "I know that I am different now. I know you can feel it, and that it bothers you. I—the mech I once was would not want you to suffer."

Elita narrowed her optics. Something about that… didn't feel right. And he hadn't answered her question. "But is that what you want?"

"This decision is not my right to make, Elita. Please do not let my emotions—"

"Stop," Elita said. "Something you said wasn't completely honest. Are you lying to me about something?"

He looked at her, still wearing a calm expression, but she could feel past it.

She narrowed her optics. "Prime, sir," she added.

There it was again.

"You cringe every time I call you that, on the inside at least. Look at me."

He met her gaze.

"You're different," she said. "You feel _so_ different, but I think…" It hurt him. It hurt him every time she spoke his title, every time she reminded him he wasn't Orion anymore, every time he tried to push her away. He had changed, but maybe it was the bond itself that was making him feel like a stranger, because for the most part his emotions weren't _that_ different. "You still care about me, don't you?"

"Of course," he said.

"So… why are you trying to convince me to leave you? I thought we were past that."

His shoulders slumped a little, and he looked down again. "You are right. And I am sorry,"

"So... what are you doing? Why are you trying to talk me into..."

"I… am afraid for your safety," Optimus said quietly. "Before giving me the Matrix, Primus… gave me a trial, that held clues to the future. In it, you... offlined."

Elita studied his faceplate.

"Maybe you would be safer if you—"

"No."

He still loved her. He still loved her just as much as he always had. She couldn't see it in his expression anymore, but she could still feel it.

"I'm still angry at you for taking the Matrix," she said. "And I'm upset that you lost so many of your memories and I'm still not sure how I feel about… how different you are. But if you think I'm giving up that easily, you're very wrong. And if you think I'm going to stay out of danger, whether or not we're bonded…"

He smiled slightly.

There. Some emotion.

"But none of that matters in the long run," Elita said. "The real question is… Do you still need me?"

He felt surprised, but didn't answer.

"You're stronger now," Elita said. "So maybe you don't."

"I…" he trailed off, unsure of himself.

"But even if you don't," she leaned forward across the table and rested her hand on top of his. "I still need you. I'll always need you."

He broke. The emotions he was feeling finally reached his faceplate and he was no longer a stranger.

"Orion."

He pulled away.

Elita wasn't going to put up with that. She got up and walked around the table. He was so tall now—even sitting, his helm was at the same level as hers.

He turned to look at her, and she reached out and cupped his faceplate in her hands. "I'm not leaving you, and don't you _dare_ suggest breaking our bond again. I don't care what happens—if I offline next orn, it'll still be worth it to me."

Everything went still for a moment, and then with a feeling that she thought might be hope, he gently took her hands and stood. She stepped toward him and he let go and wrapped his arms around her.

"I am different," he said quietly after a while.

"But you still love me."

"Of course, I do. But I didn't think you still..."

"I just wasn't sure if it was really you or not," Elita said.

"I'm not sure either. I don't know… if I _can_ be Orion anymore."

"You have his spark," Elita said. "Things won't be… It will never be the same. And I will miss the way you were, but even if that makes me angry, I understand that this is what you have to be now."

"But I promised you," he said.

The fact that he remembered that was comforting. He'd lost a lot of the time they'd spent together, but they still had some shared memories. "You promised me you would try," Elita corrected him. "I asked you if you'd still be Orion forever, and you said you'd try."

"I am so sorry."

She could tell him it was all right—that she understood—that she didn't care. But he would know that wasn't entirely truthful. She smiled, listening to his spark pulse. "I forgive you."

He let out a soft ex-vent and for the first time she could feel how tired he was.

"You should rest," she said.

"Elita?" He almost seemed like he was going to pull away from her, but then he didn't.

"Yes?"

"Are you certain?"

Certain of what? That he should rest? That she loved him? That he was still Orion enough for her? That she wasn't going to break the bond? That they still needed each other? That this was all right and they would work it out? That she'd never, never leave him?

"Yes, Optimus," she said. "I'm certain."

* * *

Thundercracker started online.

He was… he was in the medbay. He thought back, wondering how he'd gotten here. His helm ached, and he could tell he'd had some other repairs as well.

But he couldn't remember what had caused his injuries. And—come to think of it, this wasn't the medbay of the Decepticon base, was it?

"Thundercracker."

Thundercracker started, and turned to look to the side, where Skywarp and Starscream were standing, watching him.

"Are you all right?" Starscream said.

Thundercracker sat up and the motion made his helm throb. 'Warp looked a little concerned, which was uncharacteristic, and Starscream looked as if he was pretending to be concerned, which was also strange—normally he didn't even pretend.

"I said, are you all right?" Starscream repeated with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Uh…" Thundercracker put a hand to his helm. "I think so. Where are we? What happened?"

"You were injured in battle," Starscream said. "Your processor was damaged. They were worried you might not recover and that you would have memory loss. What's the most recent thing you remember?"

Thundercracker frowned. "We… it seemed like a normal orn. We had joined the Decepticons—we'd just gotten back from Tesarus, but I don't remember getting hurt..."

Skywarp looked surprised, then angry. "Screamer, that's more than you said—"

"Shut up!" Starscream snapped at him, then looked back at Thundercracker. "You lost more than we expected," he said. "It's been almost three quartexes since then."

Thundercracker stared at him.

Quartexes, he'd lost quartexes.

"We'll have to catch you up on…"

"Wait," Thundercracker said.

"What?"

Something was wrong with this whole situation. He wasn't sure he could trust anything Starscream said. Not that Skywarp was much better, but at least he'd probably be _more_ truthful. "'Warp can tell me what happened."

The two of them looked at each other, and then Skywarp looked down. "You don't remember," he said, sounding even more uncharacteristically subdued. "They… destroyed Vos."

"What?" Thundercracker said.

"The Autobots," Skywarp clenched his fists. "They sank it. It's gone. All the other seekers have joined the Decepticons too. We took Iacon, but the Autobots stormed in and took it back. Thousands of us are dead. Tens of thousands. Vos…"

"No," Thundercracker stood. "It can't be…"

"It's gone," Skywarp said. "It's okay, you'll get over it."

"Why would they… do that?" Thundercracker said.

"Because they're stupid," Starscream said. "They thought the seekers were considering an alliance with Megatron, so they threatened to bring down the city. No one thought they'd actually do it. Once they had, they realized their mistake, and tried to blame us for it. They've even got some mecha convinced—fools—but it was one of _them_ who threatened the city, and they attacked it, just before it fell…"

Thundercracker shook his helm. "Are… Andromeda and Tealwing all right?"

"They're dead," Starscream said. "And they aren't the only ones. Some died in the battle, some when the city fell…"

He listed designations of mecha they'd known. Thundercracker looked down at his hands as he listened.

"…And the Autobots won't give up," Starscream continued. "They're determined to wipe us all out to restore 'order' or whatever it is they say they want. They—"

"Stop," Thundercracker said.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just… a lot to take in."

"We'll leave you to think about it then," Starscream said. "I suppose you don't know where your room is."

Thundercracker shook his helm.

"Well, you can ask around," Starscream said. "Come on, Skywarp. I have things to do."

They left. Skywarp hesitated in the doorway, looking back.

"Skywarp!"

"It's just about surviving at this point," Skywarp said with a guilty expression on his faceplate. "You have to understand."

"Come on!"

They left. Thundercracker shuttered his optics. He could check later, but there would be no reason for them to lie about the fact that Vos was gone. Vos was gone... he could barely comprehend it.

And Skywarp was wrong. It wasn't just about surviving. If the Autobots had done this—if they had killed so many of his friends—then they needed to pay for it, and he would do everything in his power to make them pay.

* * *

Jazz had liked his office in Mirage's house a lot better. It had been smaller, but it had a nice desk with lots of drawers. This place was a small meeting room, with a table and a bunch of chairs everywhere. He'd rearranged them a couple of times, but there was no way to make the room look anything but eerily empty, so he'd just stacked them in a sort of lopsided pyramid.

Ratchet had eventually hunted him down with some help from Mirage and Mainspring—the traitors—and had given him a thorough check-up. He'd suffered through it, being intentionally difficult, talking back to the medic, and generally antagonizing him. By the end of it, Jazz was pretty sure Ratchet had enjoyed the whole ordeal about as much as he had.

He felt kind of bad about that—Ratch really was a good mech, and Jazz was grateful for his help.

He tapped his fingers on the table. He wanted to go back into the main room. The quiet emptiness of this one did not agree with him. He needed some music at the very least. As soon as he was done reading those stupid reports, he'd go find someone to talk to.

There was a knock at the door.

In Mirage's tower, they'd had a camera system set up so you could see who was outside of your office, but that was another luxury they'd lost.

"It's not locked," Jazz called.

The door slid open, and Jazz was surprised to see Prowl there.

"Hey, mech," he said. "Need something?"

Prowl being here in person was definitely unusual. He would normally have commed if he had something to tell Jazz. Had anyone seen his interaction with Soundwave? The telepath could have switched him out with Makeshift… what about Blaster? Well, there was no way to know if the fledgling was loyal. He could theoretically be working for the 'Cons. _That_ would be bad news. Jazz pulled a knife out of subspace, and held it under the table. He watched carefully as the Praxian approached him. The mech was moving like Prowl, and when he glanced over at Jazz's leaning pyramid of chairs, his doorwings twitched in an annoyed sort of way that seemed right.

He did have an unusually subdued expression on his faceplate, though.

"Actually, no," Prowl said. "I don't need something."

"Okay," Jazz said, and the silence stretched out until it was almost comical.

Then Prowl sighed and pulled a box out of subspace. "Truce?"

A board game.

Jazz's optic ridges shot up, but then he smirked. "Ha. I win."

"We haven't played yet."

Jazz put the knife away. Makeshift wouldn't expose himself by playing a board game with Jazz. Jazz would still keep his guard up, but this had gotten a whole lot more interesting, and a whole lot less suspicious. "Don't matter. I still won. Sit down. I generously accept your surrender, Prowler."

Prowl shook his helm and took a chair from the pile. "That is not my designation."

"I keep forgetting," Jazz said.

"Dare I ask why the chairs…"

"Aesthetic," Jazz said.

Prowl blinked. For a moment, Jazz thought he might be trying not to smile, but then he sat and put the board game on the table, looking completely calm and collected again. "I apologize for sending you to fight in the Tagan Heights battle. I… apologized earlier, but I realized after Iacon fell that I had been talking to Makeshift."

"Bet he didn't know what the pit ya were talking about."

"No, I don't believe he did," Prowl said. "I suppose that should have made me suspicious. In any case, I am sorry."

Jazz sighed. "Well, Prowler, I was gonna have ta kill someone eventually. I'm not mad or anything. I get it." He still felt guilty about it, and it still scared him that it had been so easy. He hadn't even had to think—he'd lost himself in the fighting. If some Autobot had gotten in the way, he might have killed them too. "Besides," he continued, "More mecha would be offline if I hadn't gone."

"That is true."

"Thanks for getting' me outta the Decepticon base," Jazz said. "Guess I should thank Prime and Ironhide too."

Prowl nodded as he finished setting up the board. "I didn't do much—I wasn't even supposed to be there. Would you like to move first?"

Jazz nodded and moved one of the pieces on his side of the board. He was probably going to lose, but he'd give it all he had, and next time he'd insist that it was his turn to pick the game.

* * *

The news anchor wore an Autobot insignia. Since the Autobots had reclamed Iacon, many mecha had joined. Now, while they still didn't match the Decepticons in numbers, they were getting much closer.

"Optimus Prime," he said. "Will you share with us your plans for the future? Now that you've got Iacon back, are the Autobots going to go on the offensive and reclaim the other cities the 'Cons have taken?"

Optimus took a few moments to consider the question. "We would like to free those cities from the Decepticons, but I will not waste lives in attempting to take them by force. The Decepticons must be stopped and if an opportunity presents itself, we will act, but we will not go on the offensive if there is unnecessary risk involved."

"Thank you," the anchor said. "As Primus's chosen servant, do you have anything to say about the Core that might help the citizens of Iacon and other city-states understand what's happened and what to do about it."

"The Core of Cybertron has gone dark," Optimus said. "When Primus gave me the Matrix, he explained that we would need to use our resources carefully, and that we may eventually need to seek energon in other parts of the galaxy. However, for now it is important that everyone remain calm. There is still plenty of energon on the planet—enough for many vorns. I would encourage all to use power sparingly, but there is no reason to hoard energon or endanger yourself or others attempting to obtain extra energon. We're working on conservation methods and we have allies in Altihex and Nova Cronum working on long-term solutions. Instructions on how to help reduce our societal energon demands will reach you soon, and we will continue to provide assistance as needed to prevent rioting and looting."

"Thank you, Prime.," The news anchor said. "With the Council gone—and I know this is old news—will you still be running Iacon under martial law or is there a plan in place for another system of governing?"

"We have appointed a temporary Council," Optimus said. "But unfortunately, I fear the Decepticons will not cease their attempts to conquer the planet, and we will need the city's resources to stop him."

Primus had shown him the outcome of the war—Optimus knew it could end with Cybertron in ruins—but that did not change what he had to do. It would be a betrayal of his calling to allow Megatron to win, and an even greater betrayal to sacrifice what was right for the sake of the greater good.

He had only one course of action.

"I do not want this war," he said. "But I will not shy away from it either. It is my duty as your Prime to protect the mecha of this world in any way that is required of me. The Decepticons will spread darkness across the globe, wasting resources on fighting. The sooner we can overcome them, the sooner we will be able to focus on the energon crisis and the reform of the Council system. Many of the Decepticons are good mecha who have been wronged by the governments of their city-states, but that does not give them an excuse to harm the innocent, and so I will fight to prevent that. I ask you, good citizens of this world, to fight alongside me. I am Optimus Prime, the last of the Primes, and I call upon all who are able to assist us in our efforts to stop Megatron and restore peace. The very survival of our world depends upon it."

* * *

The End

* * *

Notes/Acknowledgments:

1\. Thank you for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

2\. As always, I couldn't have done it without my beta readers. Unlike Many Voices, this story is very different from my first draft, and it took a huge effort to revise and re-write it. I'm so grateful to have a group of friends and siblings who were willing to bear with me as I took it apart and put it back together again. Without their input and support, it would be a terrible mess.

3\. As I've probably mentioned before, I have quite a few stories planned. The next one will be called "Age of Smoke" and will cover a large portion of the war. I'm not finished drafting it, but I'm pretty excited about what I've written for it so far. :)

4\. That said, I'm super busy right now. I'm graduating from college in a few months, and I have to job hunt and keep up with student teaching and my last few classes and all kinds of stuff, so I won't be able to start revising and posting Age of Smoke right away. In fact, I'm not sure when I'll be ready, so for now I'm just going to say this series is on a hiatus of undetermined length. I'll still be posting spare parts chapters here and there, so I'll use those to keep you updated on news about the next big story.

5\. Again, a huge thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited, or left comments on Revolution! I'm always so happy to hear what people think, and encouraged by all of the positive feedback I've gotten. Thank you so much!


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